Barren
by silverdoe91
Summary: Katniss & Peeta get married before the Quarter Quell. President Snow makes an ultimatum. Either Katniss has children, or Prim dies. Will they choose to have children? Or will they start a rebellion? Warning: Lots of flashbacks. Mostly of Peeta's childhood. Someone close to Peeta died in the Games. Mini Hunger Game included, with original characters.
1. PROLOGUE: One Crown

One crown. One house. One Victor. From the moment we won the Games, the Capitol regarded Peeta and I as being two parts of one whole.

I guess I should have seen the marriage coming.

When we got back from the Games, Effie showed us the house we were awarded in Victor's Village. Unfortunately, because the custom dictated that each game can only have one Victor, no more than one new house had been built in the village in honor of the 74th Victors of the Hunger Games. I guess the Capitol had expected Peeta and I to share the house, just as we shared the crown and the winnings. However, after my confession on the train ride home, neither of us wanted to do so much as look the other in the eye, so the house remained empty.

Shortly after the camera crews left, Peeta and I went back to our homes in our respective parts of the district, and we hadn't said a word to each other since. I assumed that once the Games were over, we could go back to the way our lives were before they took place; before we had been formally introduced. So I didn't make an effort to talk to Peeta, and he stayed away from my part of town as well.

At least until the Victory Tour, that is.

Once the Victory Tour began we had to resume our artificial romance once again. But I knew it was only a small hurdle we had to pass, and the demand to see us in public would surely diminish once a new Victor had been announced.

Of course, we would still have to meet every year to mentor tributes, but hopefully, Haymitch would offer to mentor in Peeta's place. Mentoring tributes was definitely not something Peeta would do, seeing as how his moral compass was ever so keen, and Haymitch was far more experienced.

As for me, I was trying hard to convince myself that I would do everything in my power to train whatever unfortunate child selected as the girl tribute for district twelve to become the next Victor. Of course, becoming a Victor was not a fate I wished anyone else to have to endure, since I now realized the severity of being confined to a life where you are essentially doomed to lead others to their death, but it was certainly the better choice compared to dying in the arena.

I vowed I would teach all my tributes every bit of knowledge I had acquired in all my years as a hunter, as well as through my experience in the games, and equip them with the right tools necessary for them to have a standing chance at survival in the Games. I owed them at least that much. That way they might actually have some hope for their future, however dismal it may be.

I would never give up on them the way Haymitch did with me and Peeta, even before he had met us. I wouldn't ignore them and then suddenly use them to put on a romantic show to impress the audience. I would give them more advice than to simply _stay __alive_. I vowed to care more about their lives than Haymitch ever seemed to care about ours.

Despite this attempt at having a positive outlook, the idea still scared me. The notion of having to face my dreaded fate of becoming a mentor, someone who would ultimately lead innocent children to fight in a brutal game where their demise was all but certain, instilled a fear in me that was so strong it would turn my insides upside down. I tried to remind myself that I still had many months before that reality was instated, so I tried to push it from my mind, as well as all other things related to the Capitol—such as Peeta for one.

I didn't know how to act around him anymore, because, well, the act had fallen apart. I knew what my place was once the cameras reappeared; I was to be as loving and sentimental as the crowds would require. But dealing with Peeta off-camera is what scared me the most. He seemed awfully hurt by my revelation on the train, and I couldn't bear causing him any more pain. So I just stayed away, out of the fear that I may say something else that would hurt him even more.

Besides, I wasn't entirely sure that the cameras were ever really gone. The tour bus might have surveillance cameras that we couldn't even see, much like there had been in the arena during the Games. The Capitol could be watching our every move, documenting any split second interaction that could be deemed worthy of suspicion. I was so conflicted as to how I was supposed to act around him, that I just avoided him altogether.


	2. Caesar's Interview

The idea of the marriage didn't even cross my mind until Caesar brought it up in an interview one day.

Peeta and I didn't speak to each other on the ride to the Capitol, so it was amazing how amiable we managed to appear on camera. The moment we stepped off the train, Peeta instinctively enclosed his hand around mine. When we got on stage we merged into our usual positions, with my head on Peeta's shoulder and his arm wrapped around me, and phony smiles on our faces to complete the facade.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome back the Victors of the 74th Hunger Games—Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen!" Caesar boomed before addressing us. "You both look fantastic. It's so great to see Panem's favorite couple again. How are you?"

"We're great. Honestly, we're just glad to be back home and spending time with our families," Peeta answered and I nodded my head in agreement.

"I can tell the love you two share is doing an incredible job at keeping you looking happy and healthy. You two are positively glowing!"

Actually, that glow he spoke of was the work of the Capitol's first-rate team of surgeons and dedicated hair and make up crew.

"Who do you miss the most from your family?" Caesar asked in a softer voice.

"That would definitely be my brothers," Peeta replied. "There's nothing like a brotherly brawl to remind you that you're still alive," he joked. The audience roared with laughter. He always knew how to get the crowd riled up.

"And you, Katniss?"

"My little sister," I said genuinely. My answer garnered a general ripple of approval from the crowd as they awed in unison.

"And how are you getting along with one another?" Caesar continued. "It must be one thing to be in love, but an entirely different situation to have to live together."

I was immediately taken aback by the question. This wasn't one of the questions on the list we were given when Effie prepped us for the interview. By the look on Peeta's face I could tell that he hadn't expected it either. Still, Peeta managed to regain his composure quicker than I did, and instantly thought of a suitable response.

"Actually, Caesar, we're not living together at the moment. We decided that we don't need to live under the same roof to express our love for each other," he said turning to face me and giving a charming smile.

"So you're not living in the house that was awarded to you in by the Capitol?" Caesar probed with a concerned look on his face.

It was easy to see what he was implying—that by not accepting the gift that was awarded to every Victor since the creation of the Games, we were, in a way, defying the Capitol once again. The silence that followed was extremely unsettling.

"Don't get me wrong," Peeta responded. "We're entirely grateful for the house—and we've seen it, it's absolutely amazing. But I think I speak for both of our families when I say that it would be improper for us to live together, especially now since we're not even married."

"Well, then here's an idea," Caesar countered good-naturedly, "Why don't the two of you get married?"

Caesar's question caught him off guard. Peeta immediately realized his mistake, and tried to correct it.

"Oh, no—we're far too young to get married," he explained, brushing off the suggestion with a lighthearted laugh.

"My mom wouldn't want me to get married so early," I said smiling as sweetly as I could, in an effort to bolster his argument.

"Yeah, and Katniss' mom is pretty intimidating," Peeta added, playing along. He leaned in a bit closer to Caesar, before whispering in a solemn manner, "She's not the type you'd want to cross."

Caesar nodded and gave a sympathetic chuckle to express his appreciation of the situation, before persistently pushing his initial agenda.

"I'm sure she'll understand," he said. "If your love was so great that it convinced even the Game makers to bend a few rules for you, then I'm sure your love can win over your mother's approval as well."

_There he goes again with his implications._ It took all my strength to continue smiling and not shoot a look of pure hatred in his direction.

"No, we're not ready for marriage," Peeta reasoned. "We still have so much left to learn before we enter that stage in our lives."

"Oh, come now. You're far too humble. After all that you two have been through—you've definitely proven that you're mature enough for marriage."

"It's a big step," Peeta countered logically. "We'll definitely have to consult our families before making any decisions."

"I understand. Family comes first," Caesar agreed. "And it's important to consider the opinions of those that you cherish the most. But the love you two share is so undeniable that I'm sure your families will come around in no time."

"I'm sure they will," Peeta agreed with a cordial grin.

"I can't wait until they do," Caesar stated jovially. "Oh, what a marvelous wedding it will be!"

I was relieved when the interview was finally over and pleased that Caesar hadn't asked me and Peeta to kiss as he usually did. I made a mental note to speak to Haymitch later and find out why we weren't warned in advance of the questions Caesar asked us. He usually stuck to the script that was given to us prior to the taping of the show. Hopefully Haymitch could make sure that this train wreck of an interview wouldn't happen again. But Peeta handled it well for the most part, and I was grateful for that.

After the TV crew unstrapped the microphones from beneath our clothes and finally left us alone, I gently nudged Peeta to get his attention. "Thanks," I said in a voice that was soft enough only for him to hear.

He turned to look at me, with an expression in his eyes that was void of all the gentleness I had grown to expect from him. Instead he glared at me with a cold look on his face.

"I didn't do it for you," he answered back crossly. He turned away and fixed his gaze on the crowd of cheery Capitol faces peering up at us.


	3. Victory Tour

I don't know what snapped in him, but the next morning, Peeta was back to being his usual friendly self. We were on the train making our way to the next district, when we came to a sudden halt. I decided to take advantage of this quick break and go outside for some fresh air.

Peeta had followed me outside and soon joined me where I sat on the railroad tracks in front of the train. He apologized for how he had acted after the interview, and asked that we just be friends. I was grateful that he was willing to put our past behind us and start over on platonic terms.

We didn't talk much after that, but our agreement to be friends definitely helped dispel some of the tension on the train and it made it a lot less awkward to fake our relationship on live television.

The first stop on the Victory Tour after the Capitol was district one. That was the district Glimmer and Marvel were from. I was terrified of facing their family members and friends. They probably hated me, and rightly so, for I had murdered their children.

I killed Glimmer when I dropped the hive of tracker jackers on her and the other careers. Later, I shot Marvel with an arrow, after I found him crouching over Rue's dead body. I didn't feel as much remorse for Marvel since he had killed Rue and his death was an act of vengeance on her behalf. But I did feel guilty about what I had done to Glimmer and the other careers.

I had gotten only a minimal amount of tracker jacker stings, yet I went crazy for an entire afternoon. I was lucky to regain my health soon after Rue shared her remedy with me. However, I knew that the death Glimmer had suffered was preceded by an episode of psychotic agony that was far worse than what I had experienced, and I felt deeply responsible and remorseful for causing her such an excessively long and painful death.

Despite the part I played in killing two of their district members, the citizens of district one seemed to be rather cheerful as they welcomed Peeta and I to a stage located in the heart of their town. Only one group of audience members that were seated on the top mezzanine of the large auditorium seemed to be resentful of our presence. In that elevated box I saw two sets of sullen faced adults, each were holding hands, and I identified them as being the parents of the district one tributes. The others seated around them also had mournful looks on their faces and must have been other relatives of the deceased, such as sisters, brothers, or cousins. Looking at them only intensified the amount of guilt I felt for the murders I had committed, so I tried to avert my gaze and focus on the interviewer instead.

The interviewer was the district's representative. Much like Effie, District One's representative was a well-kept woman from the Capitol who liked to dress in obnoxiously bright colored clothing. She wore a bright green dress, with matching shoes, and a luxurious pink shrug on her shoulders, and a luminescent yellow purse that she clutched in one hand. She had bright streaks of color painted all over her dark skinned face, which was contrasted by the puff of white hair that jutted out from underneath the obscenely small yet intricate hat that sat atop her head.

She asked Peeta and I mundane questions about our ride there, how we found their city, what kinds of foods we ate and which we liked most, among many other useless things. Peeta politely answered all her questions as I tried not to stare too hard at her weirdly shaped eyebrows. Then all of a sudden, I heard her ask a question about Glimmer.

"You got Glimmer with the tracker jacker hive, isn't that right Katniss?" she asked with harsh indifference, as if I had merely tapped her in a childish game rather than taken her life in a brutal fight to the death. I nodded in response. "Tell us, how did you know that the tracker jackers would attack all the tributes except for your boyfriend?"

It took me a moment to figure out that when she mentioned my boyfriend, she was referring to Peeta.

"The truth is, I didn't," I answered. "But I knew that even if the tracker jackers did get to him, it would still be a lot better than leaving him alone with the careers. They would have killed him the first chance they got."

I looked at her innocently as I basically lied through my teeth. Yes, I hadn't initially intended for Peeta to be included in the attack, but I wasn't really trying to spare him either. He had proven his loyalty lay with the careers, so at that point I didn't really care whether he got hurt or not.

"That's a very reasonable assumption to make," the Capitol representative agreed with a giddy smile on her face. "Later on, you came across Marvel and defeated him as well. Now, Marvel was quite a contender, wouldn't you agree? He was a skilled fighter and killed many tributes during his time in the game." She went on to list all the tributes he had killed as if they were highlights from a particularly engaging game of soccer. I heard some cheers erupt from the crowd as she read the names aloud. My insides knotted up when she got to Rue's name.

"What thoughts were running through your head as you battled with Marvel?" she asked when she had finished reading off the names of all those that he had killed. The crowd grew still as they silently waited for me to answer.

"The only thing my mind could register at that moment was that Rue was dead," I answered honestly. "And I wanted to make him pay for it."

"Yes, Rue was your ally, wasn't she? It's too bad she had to die," she offered in an attempt to feign her sympathy. She didn't understand that Rue was more than just a partner to me—she was a friend, a sister. She was too innocent to die. She was too _good_ to be plucked from her home and thrown into a murderous game with a bunch of carnivorous brutes that were ready to take her life.

"I'm sure she'd be glad that you won, though. And found your true love in the process, too!" she cried ecstatically. "We're all so happy for you two! You're just the most adorable couple we've seen in years! Tell us, when's the wedding?"

It was Peeta's turn to answer.

"We still have to consult our families about that, but we'll definitely let you know when it happens."

"Oh, you still haven't settled on a date then?"

"We're not sure we're ready to get married just yet," he said with an amiable smile.

"Oh, of course you are! Just look how happy you make each other," she gushed. "It's plain for anyone to see, that you two belong together. You guys are what we in the Capitol call _soul __mates_. You're meant to be together. It's almost as if you were molded to fit one another just perfectly. "

Boy, would she be surprised if she saw how completely incompatible and awkward we became once the cameras disappeared.

"You know, Aurelia, I agree," Peeta replied actually making an effort to catch her name instead of being utterly oblivious like I was. "Katniss really is perfect for me. There's no girl I'd rather be with." He gazed at me with a deep-set look of adoration in his eyes that made it hard for me to believe he was saying those words simply for the cameras. I smiled back at him. I wasn't capable of saying anything even remotely as romantic as that.

"You are just so adorable together," Aurelia cooed. "Oh, I almost forgot! We have a gift for you!" She carefully pulled out a tiny box from her giant yellow purse and handed it to Peeta with a jubilant smile on her face.

"Wow, thank you," Peeta said as he accepted the gift and slowly uncovered the wrapping.

"As you know, district one, makes diamonds and other luxury goods for the Capitol. We've decided to share our most prized possession with you as a welcoming gift!"

Once he had torn off the wrapping, he opened the little black box to reveal the present that sat squarely inside it.

"It's a ring!" he exclaimed. "And it's so...shiny."

I wasn't sure why the district would give us such an expensive gift, when we had basically murdered their children, much less why they would only give one ring for two Victors. Maybe we were expected to share it somehow, just as we had shared the crown, the winnings, and the house.

"Yes, of course, it's shiny. It's a diamond ring," Aurelia informed us. "And not only is it a diamond ring, but it is also an _engagement_ ring."

"What is that, exactly?" Peeta asked. He was obviously just as confused as I was.

The audience seemed to think that was funny and hooted with laughter.

"Oh, they don't have diamonds in the coal district, do they?" she lamented with pity. "An engagement ring is something that you give to your future wife when you make a marriage proposal."

"Oh, I see," he said trying to figure out a way out of the situation. "Well, thank you. We're deeply honored by your support of our relationship, and we'll take this as a token of our friendship with your district." Peeta smiled in attempt to dodge yet another clear implication for our marriage.

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "Just be sure to invite me to your wedding!"

Peeta nodded his head cordially. "Thank you very much," he said again as he shook her hand and we walked off the stage to the roaring sound of applause.


	4. Nightmares

I had no idea why the citizens of district one were so welcoming of Peeta and I. Aside from the families of the deceased, no one seemed to show any sign of remorse for those of their community that they had lost. No one seemed to be angry at me for taking the lives of their children.

But then I remembered that the careers usually came from districts that trained them for battle in the arena, and they had practically been raised with the knowledge that they had only two options in life—either they would win the games, or they would die trying to. I suppose growing up with that kind of mentality made it easier for their community to stomach their deaths. Still, that didn't stop me from having nightmares about it.

At night, I saw the faces of the family members of the slain tributes once more. They stood atop the mezzanine where they had been during the procession, but this time they didn't sit docilely as their children's murderer stood upon the stage. Instead, they threw down their chairs and cried out for the audience members to capture me and make me pay for my murderous acts. All the welcoming faces of the audience members were instantly transformed into the menacing mugs of a large angry mob that swarmed around me. I was cornered and before long, the angry mob strapped me up onto a large wooden post. They brought torches, and lit the wooden post on fire. I could feel the scorching heat of the flames licking at my feet, as they slowly engulfed my entire body and burned me alive.

Then as the smoke rose from the ashes of my remains, I could see the crowd's angry faces closing in on me once more. Except this time they were armed with a hive of tracker jackers that they were intent on setting on me. I tried to run away from them but they chased me down. One of them threw the hive directly at my head and as the tracker jackers bit me their toxic venom quickly spread through my blood stream, causing me to go mad. I felt a million nails simultaneously crushing different parts of my body. I screamed in pain but it wouldn't stop.

Suddenly, I felt my hands grow severely itchy. But every time I tried to scratch my hands, another part of my body began to itch. I kept scratching away until pieces of my skin began falling off. But instead of stopping there, my torment continued as I felt—and _saw_—a dozen little bugs creeping through my skin, and eating me from the inside out. I eventually went berserk, scratching and hitting myself, trying to catch the giant bugs that crawled through my skin, and the residents of district one simply pointed and laughed at my anguish.

All of a sudden I woke up in a deep sweat, panting, as if I had been running in real life, when I had actually been lying motionless in a warm bed positioned safely in my chamber on the Victory train.

Peeta was standing at my door, watching me with a concerned look on his face. I silently reproached myself for forgetting to lock my door.

"Another nightmare?" he acknowledged.

I gave a frantic nod.

"Can I come in?" he proposed. "I couldn't sleep."

I nodded and muttered sheepishly, "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"No, it wasn't you," he chuckled softly. "I was already awake when I heard you screaming...something about tracker jackers?"

"They were in my dream."

"Was it about the arena?" he asked softly, sitting down on my bed.

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "The people from district one, they set the tracker jackers on me."

"Because of what happened to Glimmer?"

"Yes. They wanted revenge."

"But they don't want revenge, Katniss," he said taking my hands in his. "You saw them. They welcomed us as friends."

"But they _should_ want revenge," I stated resolutely.

"What happened in the arena, none of that is your fault," he assured. "You did what you had to do. You did what anyone else would have done."

_Not __you_, I silently thought to myself.

But somehow, Peeta's presence seemed to soothe me enough to allow me to sleep a dreamless sleep that night. From then on, I kept my door open more often and let him join me at night. It helped him sleep better too, and he didn't try to do anything that would make me uncomfortable, so I let him spend most nights with me. Besides, there were cameras all over the train, and it helped our whole lover image that I would let him come into my room at night and share my bed.

By the time we got to district 8, we had been asked about our alleged wedding so many times that it was clear what Snow was expecting from us. I knew I didn't have much time left if I was to convince Peeta to propose to me. I didn't want it to happen in district 12, not with all of our family and friends watching us. So I tried to convince him one night after he had successfully coaxed me out of yet another nightmare and lay in bed with me keeping me company.

I rested my head on his shoulder, locked fully in his embrace. He lay only inches away from me, with one arm tied protectively around me, as if to ward off any more nightmares. He used his free hand to gently stroke my hair.

"Peeta," I whispered into his shoulder. "Maybe we should do it."

"Do what?" he asked.

"Get married."

He gazed at me intently, with a thoughtful expression in his eyes. Then he gently tucked a stray hair behind my ear as he gave his reply.

"Don't be pressured by the interviews," he whispered softly. "All this will be over in no time. I promise." A melancholy note gripped his voice as he continued. "When it ends, we can go back to being ourselves."

I knew he didn't want it to end. He liked how close we had gotten in the course of the Victory Tour. Even if it was only at night, when my nightmares got the best of me. He liked being there for me when I needed him.

But I hated how dependent I had gotten on him.

And yet I felt like marrying him would be the right thing to do.

"If we get married, it'll get them off our backs," I reasoned. "We'll have a marriage certificate and we won't have to constantly prove our love to them." I said referring to the audience members who would constantly cheer and roar until we showed them some sort of public display of affection.

"If we get married, we'll have to live together," Peeta pointed out. "And that'll open up a whole can of worms that we won't be able to handle."

"But I like having you here with me," I lied.

I didn't like him being there. I hated it. It made me feel weak.

His blue eyes scanned my face silently, before he finally responded with a somber note in his voice.

"That's not enough to get married, Katniss."

"What if your life was on the line?" I urged. "Would that be enough?"

"It won't matter," he asserted. "Living my life in fear is just as good as being dead."

"They'll leave us alone," I said trying to convince him. "If we do what they want."

I watched as his blue eyes sized me up for a moment, and his eyebrows furrowed over in confusion. Then a playful grin suddenly appeared on his face.

"I thought you were stronger than that," he pondered quizzically.

"Than what?" I asked, confused by his accusation.

"Than letting them bully you into doing what they want."

I stayed silent, so he continued. "You didn't seem to be scared of breaking rules when you used to hunt."

I immediately grew angry at him for bringing up my hunting in a room that could have easily been filled with cameras.

And he was wrong. This wasn't like hunting at all. This time the stakes were higher.

"President Snow visited my house, Peeta."

"Your house in the _Seam_?" he asked in a startled voice.

"Yes. He wants us to convince him of our relationship," I explained. "I think it's clear after all the fuss everyone's been making about marriage, _that's_what Snow expects us to do."

"So you want to get married, because that's what Snow wants?"

"Yes," I declared earnestly.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked softly pushing strands of hair from my face.

I was immediately taken aback by his question. No one had ever asked me that before. Since my father died, my life had been characterized by what I could do for others. It was never about what I wanted. It was about what I _had_ to do.

"I...I never wanted to get married," I finally replied, dodging his question.

I couldn't tell him the truth. I _still_ didn't want to get married, but I didn't have the freedom to make that choice anymore. At least the answer I did give him was sincere.

"So you never thought about marriage? Not even _once_?"

"No," I replied plainly. I suppose it's not common for girls to go throughout their lives without ever imaging their future marriage but I was never one of those girls.

"Why?" he asked in an astonished voice.

I hesitated for a while before finally settling on an answer. "Because...I don't want to have children."

"Because of the reaping?" he guessed.

"I don't want them to starve," I explained. "And I don't want them to die."

"What if they won't?" he asked, gently stroking my hair.

"I'm not willing to take that chance."

The moment passed by in silence. I felt Peeta's fingers slowly travel down to my face, as he softly caressed my cheek with his thumb.

"Not all married couples have children," he pointed out, gazing into my eyes with a soft look in his eyes.

"I never had a reason to get married," I replied.

"And you do now?"

"Yes."

"Oh, yeah?" he smiled lightly. "Why's that?"

I cast my gaze downward. _I have to tell him the truth. He deserves to know._

My eyes flitted back up to meet his eager blue ones.

_I can't continue lying to him._

My voice was barely a whisper as I replied.

"To save Gale's life."

I felt his hand fall limply from my face. He dropped his gaze and his eyebrows automatically stitched over in discontent. When he glanced back up I noticed that his deep blue eyes were overcome with a sudden flood of sadness.

I could tell that wasn't the answer he was looking for. But he didn't utter a word in reply. He simply withdrew his arm from where it lay perched around my shoulder. He pulled himself up and turned away from me.

"I think it's best if I go back to my room now," he suggested. He cast one more hasty glance in my direction, before awkwardly shuffling out of my room and closing the door behind him.

Once again, I realized I had managed to hurt him, even though I wasn't entirely sure of how or why.

_This is why I wanted to stay away from him. I knew I could say something else that would hurt him._

I instantly felt a pang of guilt for the pain I seemed to have caused him. I spent the rest of the night worrying about his reaction.

_What if he won't want to marry me anymore?_

I thought maybe if he knew that my best friend's life was at stake, that he would overlook everything else and agree to marry me.

_But why would he? I've hurt him too many times now._

Despite how heartbroken Peeta appeared to be that night, the next time someone mentioned our marriage, he automatically took out the engagement ring we got from district one, got down on one knee, and, in the typical Capitol fashion, proposed.

Once we were married, I was certain that would be enough to convince President Snow of our ruse and finally get him off our backs.

But I was wrong.

A few weeks after our wedding, I received a second visit from Snow.


	5. Visit from Snow

It happened on a Thursday afternoon. It was a chilly November day and I was returning to my mansion in the Victor's Village after a long hike from my mom's house in the Seam. As my house came into view, I noticed two burly Peacekeepers stood guard at the front entrance. I knew this could only mean trouble.

By the time I arrived at the house, I was a little worried, but I tried not to let it show. I took a deep breath and opened the gate.

As soon as I stepped over the threshold and made just one step towards the house, one of the colossal Peacekeepers standing at the door announced my name and began barking orders at me. "Katniss Everdeen. President Coriolanus Snow requests your presence. You must confirm that you have no weapons of assault on your person or in your possession at this time. Only then you will be authorized to move further onto the premises."

President Snow. I felt my insides freeze over and my eyebrows automatically stitch up in fury. I carefully walked down the rest of the path until I reached the door where the Peacekeepers stood dauntingly with their guns drawn out at their sides.

"No weapons," I said plainly, holding my arms out as proof. I stood at the entrance waiting to gain access into my home.

The Peacekeepers shifted a step on either side, leaving just enough room for me to wedge my way towards the door. I noticed the door was slightly ajar so I gave it a light shove and it groaned as it gave way. My stomach twirled as the stench of roses and blood reached my nose. I observed there was another guard stationed at the end of the hall near the entrance of the living room. That must be where President Snow was. I took several nervous steps in his direction, trying not to faint as the foul smell grew in its intensity.

I felt the Peacekeeper's watchful gaze on me as I took a right, turning into the living room. I gulped down the fear swelling in my throat as I took in the view before me.

President Snow was seated on an armchair parallel to the fireplace with an empty chair facing towards him. He turned his stout head in my direction and fixed his snakelike eyes on mine.

"Katniss," he leered dragging out the last syllable with his heavy Capitol drawl. "Or shall I say Mrs. Mellark. Please, take a seat." He motioned to the vacant chair in front of him.

I walked over cautiously and took my place opposite him.

There was another Peacekeeper stationed by the fireplace, directly behind my chair. I could feel him hovering over me, his fingers rapping faintly against the rifle strapped around his shoulder. The flames to my right flickered and cracked in the silence.

"We have the same system in place I presume? No lies, Mrs. Mellark," he stipulated with an air of caution.

"Yes." I nodded my head weakly. I tried not to wince every time he referred to me as Mrs. Mellark.

"Lovely," he smiled sitting back in his chair. "How did you enjoy your wedding night?"

"It was very…extravagant," I said trying to keep my answers as close to the truth as possible.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? We exhausted approximately nine million dollars on the feast."

I cringed at the sum. The seven course meal would have been better served to the millions of viewers watching the broadcast of the wedding from their homes rather than the Capitol attendees that threw up half the food and discarded the rest.

"Of course, that is a modest toll to spend on a wedding for two Victors. I daresay the crowds throughout the districts thoroughly enjoyed watching the program." He continued with a note of sourness in his voice. "However, with investments as high as these, particular demands must be met."

Demands? Didn't I already meet his demands by carrying through with the wedding?

"The rules of our time-honored tradition were broken, for the love of two individuals. And a nine million dollar wedding was held to sanctify this union. Yet, the people of Panem want something more…_concrete_ to prove the existence of this love." A sinister smile spread across Snow's fleshy face. "The districts are already buzzing with excitement to witness the birth of child with not one but two parents who are Victors."

That explains the whole slew of questions Peeta and I had to endure in the past few weeks concerning our plans on having children.

"With a love as sure as yours, Mrs. Mellark, I have no doubt you and your husband will manage to have children in no time. The question is, _when_?"

_My husband. Peeta. Where is he when I need him to lie for me? He's so much better at it than I am._

I swallowed anxiously.

I guess I have no choice but to continue sticking with the truth.

"I can't have children."

President Snow seemed taken aback by my unyielding response.

"And why is that, Mrs. Mellark?" he asked with an inquisitive look on his face.

This is when I concluded that an honest answer wouldn't suffice.

"Because…I'm barren," I stated plainly, trying to keep my voice steady and my gaze directly on his.

A condescending laugh escaped Snow's artificially inflated lips. "That's what your husband said in the interview with Ceasar, Mrs. Mellark. Only when he said it I actually believed him."

_Husband? My mind reeled for a moment while I sorted out the confusion. Oh, yeah. I remember now. My husband is Peeta. The one who is decorating cakes at the moment when he should be here with me!_

"But I _am_ barren," I insisted hurriedly. "We've been trying and nothing's worked so far."

"Don't lie to me, Katniss," Snow hissed with contempt in his voice. "There are two beds in this house, each in separate rooms. I am not one to be fooled."

"Why is it so important that I have children?"I demanded furiously.

Snow let out a slow, ominous chuckle as if my irritability was amusing. His breath reeked of a putrid mix of blood and rotting flesh.

"Do you honestly think that after a tribute wins the Games and is crowned Victor, that we just…_leave __him __alone_?" Snow asked making a sweeping gesture with his flabby hand. "That we just leave him here with a fortune at his feet and a mansion at his disposal, with no occupation to take up his time?"

"I'll be at the Reaping every year. And I'll be mentoring tributes throughout the games," I assured him hastily.

"Yes, and what will you be doing for the remaining eleven months of the year?"

"I'll be working on my talent."

"No, you'll be raising children. It will fit in perfectly with the star-crossed lover theme," he asserted.

"I told you already, that's not happening," I declared decisively. I could feel my frustration slipping out of my control.

"Oh, then, you want options, I suppose?" he offered pointedly. "Well, let's see what the other Victors are doing at the moment. We have Johanna Mason who's spent the last couple years on morphling, a rather large portion of our Victors are particularly fond of that treatment. Then there's Ms. Annie Cresta who has resided in the Capitol's finest psychiatric hospital for nearly a decade. She needs medication from time to time or her nightmares get too…vivid. And of course, there's Haymitch, who I'm sure you know occupies his time with his incessant penchant for drink. Do you know what all these individuals have in common, Mrs. Mellark?"

_They all got screwed over by the Capitol._

Snow waited a moment before he detected that he wasn't going to get an answer.

"All these individuals were not _compliant_."

"I would gladly be compliant, if only you gave me more of an option."

"Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire. The girl with the poisonous _berries_. Why don't we go over the options that we have available for _you_," President Snow complied in a scornful tone. "We can't make you an avox, because everyone will recognize your face. Unless of course, we horribly disfigure your face, which is entirely doable if that's the option that you choose."

I shook my head profusely.

_I do not want to be an avox. The few encounters I've had with the red-haired avox girl made it clear that it was a terrible fate to bear. I still remember the hint of sorrow in her eyes.I will not spend the rest of my life serving the stuck-up members of the Capitol while they regard me as only a piece of furniture._

"Another option we have is to use your celebrity status to benefit the Capitol," Snow explained slowly. "Throughout the ages, Victors have garnered quite a lot of attention from the citizens of the Capitol. In fact, many citizens would go so far as to pay a hefty price to arrange an encounter with a Victor. One Victor in particular, Mr. O'Dair, has been very successful in procuring a large clientele for the benefit of the Capitol."

_O'Dair—where had I heard his name before? He was a Victor, so I must have seen him on TV before._

"You have heard of Finnick O'Dair, haven't you?"

_Finnick O'Dair. I vaguely remember the girls at school mentioning a name like that. I think Madge might have told me that he had a string of affairs with a host of women in the Capitol. I never could understand why anyone from the Districts would be attracted to the freakish demeanor of Capitol women. I tried to accommodate this piece of information with what I just learned._

_Clientele?_

"His clients were…women?" I proposed bashfully, trying to piece together the knowledge I had only acquired.

"And sometimes men," President Snow asserted flashing a disturbing smile in my direction. "Its incredible how much of a fortune can be made in the sale of a fourteen year old boy who has just won the Games."

_I remember now. Finnick O'Dair was only fourteen when he won the 64th Hunger Games. He wasn't much to contend with at the start of the Games, but towards the end he received a Trident from one of his sponsors, which is when he went completely ballistic and slaughtered the remaining few tributes. They must have begun auctioning him off to the Capitol immediately after he had won. And kept him in the trade for the past ten years. That's why he was with all of those women from the Capitol. All of a sudden it dawned on me that the only thing stopping me from a similar fate was my marriage to Peeta._

President Snow's beefy jaws spread into an unsettling leer as he continued.

"I daresay a female Victor would amass a higher value in that market, don't you agree?"

At that moment I realized what he was implying. My jaw tightened and my eyebrows furrowed in agitation.

"Especially one as innocent as _you_, Katniss," Snow dug further in his ridicule. "I'm sure there are several Capitol patrons that would be willing to pay a substantial price for you."

My face flushed. "I would rather die." I asserted through clenched teeth.

"Of course, you would," Snow agreed with a cordial smile. "Unfortunately, that's not an option. However, that can be arranged for your family members. This year's Quarter Quell will be particularly interesting. I am of the opinion that if we coordinate it so that only relatives of the previous years' Victors can participate, it will be absolutely _delightful_."

_My mother's far too old to compete anymore. I can only see this proposition for what it really is. A direct attack on Prim._

"Leave my sister out of this," I blurted out furiously, narrowing my eyes.

"This year, I'm afraid you won't be eligible to stand in for her, Katniss," Snow said with an artificial look of concern plastered on his face. "Although you might be able to mentor her—show her the ropes, so to speak."

_Never. I would never train my sister to go through everything I had to go through._

All of a sudden, I heard a scornful chuckling noise escape from behind my chair. The Peacekeeper was still standing guard by the fireplace. I had forgotten he was there. I didn't even know Peacekeepers were allowed to laugh.

I thought about my options before I realized I had none. Any action I would take would automatically be misconstrued as an act of defiance, and put my sister's life in danger. Prim didn't deserve to be punished for my mistakes. I had no choice but to comply with Snow's demands. "Tell me what to do,and I'll do it," I finally conceded. "Just please—leave her out of this."

"Now, that is the attitude of a true Victor. Always putting the welfare of others before yourself," Snow said approvingly. "Being a Victor is an honor of the highest caliber, Mrs. Mellark, and with that honor comes several obligations. Victors are expected to be model citizens of Panem and are obligated to set an example for the rest of the nation. That being said, there are some rules you must follow."

President Snow slowly motioned with his hand and in an instant I heard the guard behind me shuffling at his feet. A moment later I saw him move into my peripheral view and place a heavy book on my lap. On its cover lay the symbol of Panem, carved in gold; its background was drenched in a deep red, all too reminiscent of the stifling stench of blood that currently permeated the room.

I opened the book to the first page and found the same symbol stamped above a title that read: _"Laws __of __Conduct __in __Panem."_

"We both know how fond you are of rules," Snow remarked snidely.

"I suggest you familiarize yourself with the contents of this book," he spat at me narrowing his dark beady eyes. "If you or any of your colleagues take so much as one step out of line, I assure you, there will be consequences."

I swallowed down the fear that surged inside of me. I didn't want to find out what those consequences might be.

"Why don't you go ahead and read what it says on page 137," he directed.

I silently turned through the book until I reached a page marked, "Penalties for Poaching on Capitol Grounds." I read the title aloud and was automatically gripped by horror as I scanned down the long list of penalties that continued on to the next page.

"You do understand what that means, yes?"

"No hunting," I answered grimly. _How __long __had __he __known __about __my __hunting __activities? __And __what __did __that __mean __for __Gale?_

"Good," he chided. "And tell that boyfriend of yours, too."

"I don't have a boyfriend," I stated in all honesty.

"Yet you choose to spend an extraordinary amount of time with a strapping young man that is outside the constraints of your marriage."

"You mean my cousin?" I quickly corrected.

"Whatever he is, make sure he abides by the rules and he can continue working in the mines without any disruptions."

"Disruptions?"

"Yes. The kind that can kill dozens, perhaps even hundreds of citizens, working below ground level."

"You mean, like a mining accident?" I stammered, trying not to sound as feeble as I felt.

My mind rushed back to the ill-fated day four years ago when my teacher announced that an accident had occurred at the mines. I was the first one at the scene but the last one to leave. Even after everyone else had gone home, I continued to wait among the ruins, refusing to believe that my father was gone, willing him to come out from underneath all the debris that littered the ground. But he didn't.

I kept thinking that he would come home one day. That perhaps he had really been hiding out in the woods at the time of the accident. In my mind, he was safe and sound, just really far off in the woods and slowly making his way back home. But as the days went by, I gradually learned to accept that he wasn't coming home, and that I had lost him forever.

"Oh no, Mrs. Mellark, mines rarely blow up by accident. Not in Panem. You see, we have a perfectly built system of underground grenades installed in the mining part of town. They work much like pods would in a Game. They can be activated at any time," he said with the patronizing leer on his face growing ever wider. "All it takes is the push of a button."

"But why…" I trailed off unable to finish my question. I suddenly felt weak and light-headed.

"To send a message to the citizens of Panem— that the Capitol is powerful and secure and is only getting stronger. The officials of the government feel that the districts need to be reminded of this every now and then. It has proven to be quite an effective method of persuasion in the past."

_A message? That's what my father's death was? And the dozens of other miners that lost their lives in that same incident—their deaths were nothing more than a cruel stunt made to remind us that the Capitol had control over every part of our lives._

"But, of course, all this can be avoided as long as you follow the rules that are transcribed in that book and fulfill your obligations as a Victor. Your obligation as a Victor is a simple one—to bear children. A task that shouldn't be so hard to do, seeing as how you're _madly __in __love_ with your husband. Imagine what an honor it'll be to give up your children for their first reaping. You and your husband can train them. They'll be the most skilled and most celebrated tributes Panem has ever seen. For every Game they win, they will only be adding to the glory of your family's name. You will go down in history as the mother of Victors, the creator of a line of champions."

_The creator of a line of murderers would be closer to the truth._

"But it is up to _you_ to make that choice. You see, I am a generous man, Mrs. Mellark, which is why I am willing to give you a generous offer. If you agree to comply with this demand, I guarantee that your sister will be exempt from ever having to take part in a reaping again. I'm giving you the most generous offer you can get; so what do you say? Will you accept my offer?"

_If I don't accept the offer, then I will most certainly put Prim's life in danger. If I do, then I'll be expected to bear children and essentially raise them up for slaughter. But the immediacy of the former situation made it more menacing than the latter. At least in the second situation I would have time to devise an effective plan. So I would have to accept the offer, if only to buy me more time._

"Yes," I whispered in a tone that was barely audible.

"Do I have your word on that?"

"You do," I stated more clearly this time.

"Excellent. Now, Katniss, will you please be so kind as to extend your right arm?"

I tentatively outstretched my arm in his direction, wondering what he was intending to do with it. Did he force people to sign contracts with their own blood? Or worse, did he drink the blood of his victims? Perhaps that is why he reeked of the vile scent, and its odor only grew stronger every time he opened his mouth to speak.

I held my arm out, trying to keep it steady and willing it not to shake. I waited for the President to act, partially expecting him to lunge at me and sink his teeth into my skin. But he merely leaned back further into the cushion of his armchair, as though he were waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly, the Peacekeeper at the end of the room began to stir. He silently made his way over to my chair and grabbed a hold of my outstretched arm and rolled up the sleeve of my shirt up to my elbow. The other Peacekeeper that stood guard behind my chair inched closer to the fireplace and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a glimmer of the metallic instrument he held in his hand.

The Peacekeeper on my left tightened his hold around my wrist, and with his free hand, he gripped my shoulders, pinning me down against the chair. My eyes fell on the object the second Peacekeeper held in his hand as he lifted it from the fire. It was a long metal rod with a flat circular end that glowed bright red from the contact with the flames now thrashing in the fireplace. I automatically knew what the device was used for and my eyes widened with fear. I wanted to scream but compelled myself to keep silent, instead digging my fingernails into the shards of wood in my chair. I couldn't let myself show them any sign of fear.

The Peacekeeper to my right slowly lowered the instrument in his hand and the instant it made contact with my arm, I could feel the scalding sensation of the metal burning my skin. I winced and gritted my teeth to bear the pain. Over the sizzling sound of my skin melting I heard a soft cackling noise escape from President Snow's direction.

Finally, after a several moments of intense agony, I felt the metal rod being lifted from my skin. I slowly opened my eyes and saw that the burn mark left on my skin was shaped in the form of the nation's emblem, the circular symbol of Panem, which was now stamped on my forearm.

"A token of our agreement," President Snow explained.

He leaned forward and stood up. "This will be our last conference, I'm afraid. But do keep in mind, Mrs. Mellark, we'll be watching you." He fixed his beady, snake like eyes on me for the last time before he turned to leave, with his guards close at his heel.


	6. Haymitch's Advice

After the last of President Snow's Peacekeepers walked out the door and slammed it shut, I was left all alone in a room stifled by a rotten stench of human blood and roses.

At first, I couldn't move at all; I was paralyzed by the fear of what had just happened.

President Snow had left me with a book of rules I was expected to follow and a horrible obligation to fulfill. If I didn't abide by the rules he set out for me, he promised that there would be consequences and personally threatened the life of every single person I cared about. The most terrifying part of the encounter was his confession that _he_ had been responsible for my father's death—and his warning that he could easily provoke more "accidents" in the Seam that would undoubtedly result in the death of hundreds of people.

My blood boiled at the thought of how carelessly the Capitol killed off innocent people, with no regard to the lives they affected by doing this, as long as it would promote their own self-serving political agenda.

I suddenly wished I had my bow and arrows hidden in the house because at that point, I wanted nothing more than to shoot an arrow straight through Snow's poisonous heart. No, not an arrow—that death was strictly reserved for the innocent animals that I killed out of necessity and would be far too merciful for a cold-hearted creature like him. No, I wanted to look him in the face as I gutted the life out of his snake like eyes. A blade would do.

I abruptly got out of my chair and marched to the kitchen intent on grabbing the first knife I could lay my hands on and chasing down the murderous tyrant before he got into his hovercraft and sped away to the safety of his home in the Capitol. But once I reached the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. I remembered the band of Peacekeepers that swarmed around him as he left the house; they were sworn to keep him safe. If I wanted to get to the President I would have to take down his guards first.

I suppose I could gather some knives from the kitchen and aim them at the guards perched high up from a second floor window—but his guards were obviously heavily armed and their guns were undoubtedly more powerful than any amount of knives I could throw at them. If my act of rebellion wouldn't succeed, then I wont be the only one to perish—the people of my town would automatically be targeted as well. I couldn't take a chance that would put so many lives in jeopardy. My efforts to usurp an oppressive ruler would be futile if my entire town was destroyed. It was hopeless.

I continued walking into the kitchen. Instead of grabbing the knife I grabbed some cleaning utensils. I had to get rid of the stench. It was suffocating me. I opened the window and began cleaning the room.

I didn't stop until I had removed every single trace of his presence from the house. I was enraged at the audacity he showed in coming into my home and threatening the lives of _my_ family members. But then I realized that Snow and his fellow politicians in the Capitol owned the house that I lived in, as well as the land that it stood upon. And after that faulty contract I had made with him, it was obvious that Snow now owned my life as well. That was made clear by the symbol of Panem now stamped on my arm. I could still feel the sting of the burn mark on my forearm as I worked.

I scrubbed the floor with a strong scented detergent from the Capitol that I had always rejected in favor of a homemade solution, but this time I needed its overwhelming stench to overpower the odor left behind by Snow. As I cleaned, I thought about who I could tell about the visit I had just received. I was glad that Peeta wasn't there when it happened, because frankly, I didn't think he would understand. None of the threats made by the President would affect him. His siblings were too old to compete in the Quarter Quell, the grenades were installed in my part of town, not his, and he was far too good-natured to break any rules that were listed in the law book. So he had nothing to worry about, and I wanted to keep it that way. If I told him what went on in my encounter with Snow, then he would be dragged into the contract, and that would put his life in danger as well.

I felt trapped. I didn't know who I could talk to about the visit without instantly endangering their life.

I decided to go see Haymitch and ask him for advice.

I trekked the few yards to his house and knocked on his door. His life was already so miserable he couldn't last a single moment being sober, and he had no family I knew of. Basically, he had nothing to lose.

Haymitch swung the door open with such force that it almost seemed as if he had been expecting me.

"You got a second visit from Snow?" he barked at me furiously without even offering so much as a greeting.

"Yes," I replied somewhat taken aback by his agitated response.

He shook his head in dismay.

"Come in," he instructed.

I followed him into the house and closed the door.

"Is that normal?" I asked.

"No," he answered succinctly as he sat down at a table and grabbed a bottle of liquor that sat in front of him. "He visits Victors, but he rarely visits _twice_."

"What does that mean—if he visits twice?"

"It means you should feel threatened."

_Well, that was made especially clear seeing as how the president made a point to personally threaten everyone I considered important in my life._

Haymitch guzzled down what was left in the bottle and slammed it back down against the table with a loud thud.

"Do you usually get this after the second visit?" I asked, rolling up my sleeve and stretching out my arm in front of him.

He leaned forward and silently observed the burn mark on my forearm. He sighed and nodded solemnly in response. "It's supposed to remind you of the Capitol's rules."

Haymitch looked at the empty bottle in his hand, and added "You want a drink?"

"I guess I could use one."

Haymitch grinned with approval.

"Follow me, sweetheart. I have a winery in my basement that I guarantee will impress you."

I followed him down to the basement. He was right it was pretty impressive. But it was a mess. There were discarded liquor bottles lying all over the ground, stacked one on top of the other, and shards of glass littered across the floor. I tried to maneuver my way through without stepping on something that would surely pierce a hole in my boots.

He handed me shot glass and filled it up to the brim, knowing well enough that was more than I could handle.

I tossed back the drink—just to prove I could do it. I instantly felt the sting of the liquid as it ran down my throat.

"Now, let me see that arm of yours again," he said. I pulled up my sleeve and presented my wounded arm once more.

"That's a tracker. It puts you at the top of Snow's hit list," he informed me. "One false move and you're dead, sweetheart."

I was surprised by the level of honesty he showed in answering my question. He seemed to have let his guard down since we entered the basement.

"Haymitch, are we being watched?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. This here is my private drinking room. They stopped installing cameras in here after I broke their equipment in a drunken fit for about the eighth time in a row. No one's watching us in here."

Even without the cameras, the Capitol could still have a sense of my whereabouts considering the tracker that was now embedded into my arm.

"The tracker on your arm lets them know _where_ you are," he assured sensing my apprehension. "But not what you're doing."

I looked at him skeptically. Could it really be that Haymitch had found a safe haven for himself, away from the watchful eye of the Capitol's cameras?

"You're free to be as honest as you like," he insisted. "Go ahead. Ask me about something that's been bothering you."

"Okay," I complied. "Why is Snow putting so much effort into making me do what he wants? Why doesn't he just put an end to everything and kill me now?"

"He can't go around killing off Victors—can you imagine the public uproar that he would cause if he began targeting the champions of each district? No, your death would only do _more_ to incense the districts rather than subdue them."

"So he wants to make my life miserable instead."

"No. First, he wants to find a reason to kill your family," he insisted. "Then, you'll be miserable."

"So if I don't play by his rules, he'll kill my family. But if do, then my children will be doomed," I carefully summed up the situation I was in. "It's a trap. Either way, I'll lose my family and end up being miserable."

"That's exactly what he's aiming for. He wants to box you in and crush your spirit," he said. "So you won't be a threat."

"How am I threat?" I cried out in disbelief. "I never even meant to defy the Capitol."

"It doesn't matter what you did in the arena. In his eyes, a Victor is nothing more than a murderer with money and a reason to rebel," he asserted with his gaze firmly set on me. "So he'll stamp you down any way he can."

"Then why doesn't he get just rid of the reward system?" I proposed what seemed like an obvious solution to me.

"That reward system has been place since long before he was instated as president. If he tries to do away with the system completely, then he'll shake up the core of the nation so much that it will undoubtedly cause an uprising. Instead, he attacks the Victors personally."

"And he does that by making them offers that he knows they won't be able to fulfill. So then he'll have an excuse to wipe out their families. And after that's done…" I trailed off. "They'll be hopeless."

"Exactly," he agreed. "But you're lucky. Your cross to bear as a Victor is to have children with a man that obviously loves you," he stopped to let out a laugh. "A lot of us didn't get an offer that easy, I can tell you that much."

"So," I started hesitantly, "you think I should do it?"

"No, of course you shouldn't do it."

"Haymitch you just told me that the offer he gave me is an easy one. And now you're telling me that I shouldn't do it?"

"You shouldn't," he restated his previous answer with a firm shake of his head.

"And then what happens? He'll kill everyone I care about?"

"He'll do that either way."

I hesitated for a moment because I knew he was right.

"I signed a contract with him," I insisted. "Maybe if I keep up my end of the deal, he'll keep his."

Haymitch laughed at the suggestion. "Do you honestly think he'll play by the rules?"

I shook my head. "Then what do you suppose I do?"

"You want my honest opinion?"

"Yes," I stated, bracing myself for the worst.

"Start a rebellion."

I stared at him in astonishment.

"Haymitch, how am I supposed to start a rebellion?" I cried incredulously. "I am a sixteen year old girl living in the poorest district of the country, which by the way, is now littered with cameras and Peacekeepers within every inch of the town."

"You can fight them," he proposed.

"How? All I have at my disposal is a bow and arrow and that is nothing compared to the weapons the Peacekeepers carry," I answered back angrily. "And President Snow said that he keeps a set of _bombs_ under the mines, Haymitch. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

"With manpower," he insisted succinctly.

"What manpower?" I cried incredulously. "I have no one to back me up."

"You have me," he offered in a feeble attempt to convince me.

"I'm sorry, Haymitch," I sighed. "But that's a ridiculous idea."

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed with a laugh.

"Yes, it is," I insisted. "Now, do you have any _reasonable_ ideas that could help me?"

"That's it, sweetheart. That's all I can think of." He took a generous swig from the bottle that he held in his hand.

"Come on, you have to have something better than that."

"Nope, that's all I got."

He continued to guzzle down the drink in his hand.

"Haymitch if you insist on being drunk when I desperately need your help, then maybe I should just leave." I was quickly getting irritated at how Haymitch insisted on treating my situation as if it were a joke.

"Maybe you should," he said taking another swig from his bottle.

It was obvious I wasn't going to get a straight answer from him at that point, so I just left.

As I crossed the Victor's Village and walked back to my house, I thought over the idea that Haymitch proposed. If I tried to start a rebellion, and it wouldn't succeed, then my botched effort would only result in the destruction of my town and all the people that lived in it. If I didn't comply with Snow's demands, then people would die, too. If I went through with the pact I had made with him, then I would surely be miserable, and it would definitely put my children's lives at risk in the future. But the latter option would result in the least amount of deaths, and instantly only put one life in jeopardy—mine.


	7. PART I: Game Time

After President Snow's unwelcome visit last week, all I could think about was how I was going to keep my end of the deal.

He had figured out that Peeta's announcement during a televised interview with Caesar concerning my pregnancy was false, and merely a plot to avoid having children without the public's disapproval. I couldn't possibly tell Peeta what Snow had told me during that brief meeting, knowing well enough that Peeta would never agree to it. So I spent the last week devising a scheme that would work.

Because having children was not an option anymore. It was an obligation of my debt to the president. Or at least, being pregnant was. I could kill the growing fetus while it was still inside of me, at the very last minute, and pass it off as a miscarriage. That should give me enough time to start a rebellion right under President Snow's unsuspecting nose. Just the thought of striking a dagger through Snow's wretched heart put a triumphant smile on my face.

While I sat there on my bed, smiling like a loony, Peeta came through the door. I automatically looked up and greeted him with as much enthusiasm as I could pass for normal. Game time.


	8. Bait

"Hey. How was your day at the bakery?" I said smiling as sweetly as I could.

"It was good. It feels great to spend time with my family again," he said beaming back at me. "You know, my parents want us to come over for dinner one of these days," he added as he sat down on the bed right next to me.

"But I've already met your parents," I replied purposely dodging the request.

"Not at a ceremony. Just us as a family, at my old home. You guys can get to know each other better," Peeta explained.

"Your mother hates me. I doubt she'll want to get to know me better."

"No, she doesn't Katniss. She just hasn't had a chance to see you for who you really are."

I let out a heavy sigh. This wasn't going according to my plan. And arguing with Peeta wasn't doing anything to help move it along.

"Okay, I'll go. For you," I finally said in agreement. Now I had to figure out how to get this back on track.

"Thanks," Peeta said flashing me a grin that illustrated both his surprise and gratitude for how easily I conceded to his suggestion. I smiled back at him as sincerely as I could while I thought of my next move.

Luckily, Peeta was a master at segueing into different conversations. "So how did your day go?" he asked.

"It was fine." I said elusively. "I just spent most of the day thinking."

"About what?" Peeta asked with a worried expression on his face. He probably thought I was being haunted by some horrible nightmare. Well, I was.

But by only one nightmare in particular.

"You," I answered with a shy smile on my face waiting to hear the intended response. Just as I calculated, Peeta replied with a look of surprise adorned on his face.

His mouth fell open and his eyebrows immediately shot up. He was almost at a loss for words, when he slowly asked me in a hesitant voice, "What about me?"

I laughed lightly, trying to make this moment last, before I began to explain. "You remember during the Victory Tour, when you promised you would give a portion of your winnings to all the victims' families? Did you really mean that? Or were you just saying that to impress me?"

"Of course I meant it. It wasn't right that the Capitol deprived the other contestants' families of their tribute money, when they easily suffered just as much as we did, if not more," Peeta replied with a serious look on his face. "Besides, we have more money than we know what to do with."

"That's such noble thing to do," I said trying my best not to sound cheesy.

"Of course, it didn't hurt that it impressed you too," Peeta admitted with a small laugh.

I took this opportunity and lunged at him, planting my lips squarely on his. I made the first move. Now I just had to wait for Peeta to kiss me back, and get carried away like he usually does. Except this time, I wasn't intending on stopping him.


	9. Unravel

He returned my kiss with twice as much passion as I gave him. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down on top of me, my head hitting the soft pillow beneath me.

His arms wrapped around me, and gently pressed me closer to him. I let my fingers run through his hair, as I deepened the kiss, and even moaned a little to keep him going. My hands slid down his chest and began unfastening the buttons to his shirt. By the time I was done, Peeta pulled back a little out of surprise, and asked me what I was doing.

Seeing as how I'm no verbal expert, the only answer I could think of was "nothing", and then I dove in for another kiss. That seemed to calm him down for some time.

I tried undoing his belt, but it seemed kind of impossible seeing as how he was directly on top of me. So I wrapped one leg around him, and rolled him over until he was pinned right beneath me. I straddled him with my thighs and continued to kiss him feverishly, as my fingers slowly crept down to his hips and finished unbuckling his belt. But before I could go any further, I suddenly felt his hands grip my wrists with a surprising amount of strength and hurl me down against the bed.

"Katniss, what are you doing?" he asked again, this time with more conviction in his tone.

"I'm just….trying to show you how happy you make me," I said innocently, as I tried reaching in for another kiss.

It was no use. He pushed me down again.

I huffed and didn't even bother to mask my disappointment at that point.

"Can you please tell me what's going on?" Peeta asked with the amount of suspicion in his voice rising. "I thought you said you didn't want to get too close—"

"Well, I do now." I said cutting him off.

"But you said you didn't want any children. We can't risk it."

"I'm not scared anymore." I asserted.

"Why?" he asked in a forceful tone that demanded an answer. "What changed?"

I paused for a moment. Should I tell him about President Snow? Or should I try to keep going with the façade? I finally decided it was no use to continue lying to him; he was catching on to the truth as it was.

I gave a heavy sigh, looked up at the empty ceiling and told him. "President Snow knows I'm not barren."

There. I spilled the beans.


	10. Motive

When he heard my response, Peeta automatically pulled away from me and stretched out on the bed, letting out a sigh of exasperation. That was definitely not the answer he was looking for.

"Who did he threaten this time?" he asked. By this point he had joined me in staring up at the ceiling. The moment had made it too awkward to look one another in the eye.

"Prim," I muttered painfully.

"He came by the house a week ago, while you were out working in the bakery. He told me that if we didn't put enough effort into convincing him of our—_relationship—_he would make sure that this year's Quarter Quell would consist of only relatives of the district's prior victors. There would be no way around it, Peeta. He would make it law, and there would be no one to step in for her this time," I explained softly, trying my best to keep the panic in my voice at a minimum.

I turned to look at Peeta. He had one hand around his temple, taking my words in with heavy consideration.

Still staring up at the ceiling, after what seemed like a lifetime, he finally responded trying to keep his voice steady.

"So you married me to spare Gale's life, and now you want to have my children….in order to spare Prim's, " he concluded with a grim laugh.

Yeah, that was basically it. What he said made me sound so heartless, and yet it was so true that I could think of nothing else to respond with. I took a big gulp to contain my guilt and just continued staring up at the ceiling.


	11. Pep Talk

"You know, there are other ways to get around this problem, without whoring yourself out to me," Peeta said with contempt.

I was shocked at hearing him say something so spiteful towards me, but I guess I deserved it. I must have really hurt him this time.

Still, that didn't stop me from shooting daggers in his direction. "Thanks," I retorted angrily. "Let me know when you come up with a better idea."

"Well, if you think having children with someone that you don't love is a good idea, then yes, I have plenty that surpass that."

Wow—mean and sarcastic Peeta. I definitely didn't see that coming. Good thing I didn't mention I wasn't planning on keeping his baby.

"I didn't think you would be so bothered by it," I replied, my tone revealing my annoyance a little more than I intended it to. "And since you're such a genius with ideas, let's hear some of them if you don't mind."

"Well, for starters, you're an excellent archer. You can use that to your advantage," he pointed out. "You don't have to play by the Capitol's rules, Katniss. You can set your own."

"If I don't follow the rules then I'll be dead! And what good will that do for Prim?"

"You broke the rules when you took those berries into your hands during the games. And you're still alive," Peeta said, with the hostility in his voice noticeably diminishing. "And you saved another life in the process," he continued softly, "Mine."

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that perhaps I wasn't the only one who felt indebted to someone else out of gratitude, but that maybe Peeta felt as though he owed _me_—for sparing his life in the games.

"If you could save one life, by holding a handful of berries, imagine how many more you can save. The rules the current government has in place will kill thousands regardless of what you do, Katniss, and we'll help no one by going along with them. We're victors. We have at least some power to change what happens now. And we can't neglect the privilege that's been given to us. We can't be pawns in their games anymore."

My eyes were transfixed on him as he spoke; his words had the power to elicit a fire in my heart that I thought had long been extinguished. His flair for articulation was really something special.

I was so entranced by his words, that my own were barely a whisper when I finally spoke, "I really want to kiss you right now." And I really did.

"Well, I don't," Peeta muttered bitterly, his anger slowly creeping back to him now.

I bit my lip longingly, and turned to face the ceiling once more. "Does this mean I don't have to have dinner with your family anymore?" I asked, casually trying to dispel the idea from his mind.

"No, we're still going," Peeta insisted with stern determination.

"But why? Your mother _hates_ me!" I asserted, trying desperately to convince him.

"I know," he replied, his voice unfaltering. "But I want to see the look on her face, when she sees me walk through the door with you on my arm." A smile crept up on his face.

I couldn't help but laugh.


	12. Morning

The next morning I woke up to the sweet smell of pancakes wafting through the air.

For a second, I thought I was back at home, and somehow Prim had gotten mom to be in a good enough mood to actually make breakfast. I hoped this would be one of those rare but pleasant days when my mother finally summoned up all the courage she had before the accident happened, and acted as if things were normal again. But as I inhaled the syrupy scent once more, I noticed a slight difference in the aroma.

My heart dropped. No, these weren't the stale pancakes my mom made from our meager tesserae collection. These pancakes had a rich flavor that was undoubtedly confined for only the most expensive mouths to taste. That's when reality hit me, and I understood I wasn't at home anymore. I was in a mansion located in the heart of the Victor's Village with my former district partner and newly elected husband Peeta Mellark.

The Capitol had taken care of providing us with a whole lifetime supply of luxurious food items shipped in personally from the Capitol. As if the money we were awarded couldn't already feed a thousand mouths or more. Now we could probably supply all of Panem's starving districts with sustenance.

It was a wonder that Haymitch never had more than meager supply of liquor bottles stored in his fridge. Maybe he gave his boxes of food to Greasy Sae to sell to needy families for a fraction of the price, like Peeta and I did. Or maybe the boxes were catching dust and feeding the rats that run rampant in his basement. Now that I think about it, it's probably the latter.

I sighed. As much as I didn't want to abandon the sanctuary of my bed, my stomach growled from hunger so I obediently discarded my feelings of despair and dragged myself out of bed.

As I made my way down the stairs my spirits were so low that I didn't even bother to fix my disheveled appearance or gather the spare strands of my hair that jutted out wearily from my usual braid—which was more like a frumpy wad at that point anyway.

With all the cameras gone, and my prep team carted back to the Capitol, I no longer had a reason to look good anymore and was glad that I could finally bask in the comforting dullness of my life.

Besides, I didn't want to promote Peeta's feelings for me. The more flaws he saw in my character the better. With any luck I'd be able to drive him away from me by the end of the Quarter Quell. The last thing I needed at that point was to have another life I was to be held accountable for.

That's the last thought that ran through my mind as I approached the kitchen and was simultaneously attacked by the delicious smell of the breakfast laden table in front of me and the immediate tension in the room. Peeta was usually the one to greet me first, but now his back was turned to me as he feigned interest on whatever it was he had frying on the stove. I hesitated and considered my options—I could grab a packaged grain ration and eat in the living room or even walk the long distance to my mother's house and eat there—but then I finally gave in to my appetite.

"Mmm. Smells good," I said grabbing a fork and jabbing it into a layer of pancakes. "What're you making?"

"Omelets," Peeta answered back without as much as looking at me. He seemed to be completely absorbed in his work. But it's not like him to be this guarded.

"Do you need some help?" I probed, trying to get more than a one word answer from him.

"Nope," he responded casually.

"Ok." I plumped down into a seat and made myself comfortable before digging into a plateful of fluffy pancakes. Despite my failed attempts at lifting the tension, I knew that Peeta wouldn't mind since he's always one to share. He'd feed me himself if he had to. But he knows better than to do that. Romantic gestures like that always make me squeamish.


	13. Breakfast

I stared at my plate as I quietly carved into the remainder of my Capitol sponsored pancake.

It felt rather strange to be eating a meal that I hadn't worked hard to obtain on my own, much less had no hand in preparing. Having been self-reliant for as many years as I have, the feeling of being dependent on someone else for my food was quite unsettling.

A sizzling noise erupted from the skillet on the stove and reminded me that even eggs in the process of being fried have a greater aptitude of breaking uncomfortable silences than I do.

I decided to make another crack at breaking the ice between Peeta and me. He _was_ making my breakfast, after all.

When I had finally summoned enough courage, I lifted my head and settled my gaze firmly on the back of Peeta's curly coated blonde hair. "Are you still mad about yesterday?" I asked, getting right to the point.

His head jerked up, clearly not expecting me to be so up front about the situation. Especially in the kitchen, where there are obvious cameras in place.

"I don't know, Katniss," he hesitated before continuing. "That's not something you get over too quickly," he answered trying to withhold as much information as he possibly could. He scooped up the omelet in the frying pan and carefully slid it onto a nearby plate.

"I'm sorry," I apologized looking back down at the plate before me. "I couldn't think of anything else I could do."

"Just be honest with me," he said bringing the plate of omelets to the table, and sliding into a seat right beside me. "We'll brainstorm together."

I gave a silent nod.

All of a sudden, Peeta leaned in closer to me, and practically whispered in my ear, "You have to trust me, Katniss." This took me by surprise and I instantly drew back a little as the warmth of his breath brushed past my ear. I hope he didn't notice.

Peeta pulled away from me delicately, giving me the space that I need. So he did notice.

"We agreed to be friends, right," he said reminding me of that conversation we had shared so long ago on the train ride during the Victory Tour. "Friends trust each other."

"Yeah, you're right," I said biting my lip.

Sure, we've gone a long way since the start of the Hunger Games, when I was all but convinced that Peeta's every move was part of a prearranged plot to kill me; but if he thinks I trust him now, he better think again.

However, that probably wouldn't be an appropriate issue to discuss in a room filled with prying Capitol cameras that focused on documenting our every move. So I held back my thoughts and directed all my attention to the omelet that was now sitting on the plate before me.

"So, where are you taking me today?" I asked in an attempt to change topics.

"How about we take a walk through the square and then drop by my mom's?" He suggested.

I twisted my face into a quizzical expression and pretended to consider his idea as if I hadn't already known the answer.

After our wedding we decided to allocate one day out of the week, Saturday, to publically flaunt our simulated relationship. We usually ended up going to the town square and browsing through shops and restaurants, since that's the most crowded area in the district. The more publicity we get the better.

"Ok, that sounds like a good idea." I finally responded. "Oh and, what should I wear? To your mom's, I mean," I added hastily, remembering I had never been to his mom's before, and that is probably something a girl would ponder over before visiting her in-laws for the first time.

"Just wear what you usually wear," Peeta answered giving me a reassuring grin. "The less she likes you, the more I do."


	14. Weekly Stroll

**Peeta's POV**

As soon as we finished clearing off the breakfast table, Katniss muttered something about fetching her purse and hastily ran up the stairs. I stayed behind to wash the dishes and stash away any leftovers from our meal. When I was done, I put my shoes on and threw on my coat. I lingered at the door, shuffling my keys in my hand, waiting for Katniss to come join me.

I heard her muted footsteps padding down the hall behind me. I turned halfway and was surprised to find Katniss standing beside me, looking somewhat different from how I'd seen her only moments ago. She was dressed in what seemed like a new set of clothes, a clean set of trousers and a burgundy sweater. She had even managed to pull back her tousled hair into a neat braid that fell down her back. The burgundy complemented her olive skin tone and brought warmth to her eyes. She looked amazing. But then again, there's not much she can do to be less beautiful in my eyes.

"What's with the change of clothes?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"For the cameras," she said as if it were the most obvious explanation.

"The Katniss I used to know didn't like being pampered up for the cameras," I joked as we walked out the door. "I think the Capitol is rubbing off on you."

She shot a look at me that said she clearly didn't appreciate my taunts.

"Cinna left a bunch of clothes in my closet," she reasoned. "It would be a waste if I didn't wear it."

"I'd be careful about wearing his designs," I said. "You might burst into flames in any minute."

Katniss gave a small grin. "I'll take my chances."

We continued in silence as we made our way down the hill and towards the gate surrounding Victor's Village. The past few weeks have gone by in silences like these. Even for someone as talkative as me, it's hard to strike up a conversation when there are cameras peeking at you from every corner of your home, your town, even your mother's home. And it makes it even more challenging that your wife hates you. I know it's not a real marriage, but it hurts when every sign of affection you show is automatically shot down with an icy glare. So I've learned to withhold on the loving gestures and compliments. At the start of the Victory Tour I promised her we'd be friends, so that's what I'll give her. Nothing more. Maybe after that's accomplished I can start aiming for her heart.


	15. Flower Shop

**Peeta's POV**

We had been in the flower shop for what seemed like an hour.

Katniss enjoyed looking at the different types of flowers and showered the florist with a barrage of questions about them. The florist had never seen a customer show that much interest in his products so he happily obliged.

At this point, Katniss' discussion of plant species with the florist exceeded any amount words she had shared with me in the past three walks we've had.

But, honestly, I didn't mind. Katniss got so animated listening to the florist carry on about trivial things like flower origins and gardening techniques, it was really adorable. I don't think I've ever seen her get so worked up about anything. She's usually so quiet and composed.

As I stood there listening to their dreary intellectual banter, my mind began to drift off. I worried that Katniss' mood might shift dramatically from now until noon, and she might change her mind entirely about letting me take her to my mom's house for lunch.

I was surprised she even agreed to accompany me in the first place. Sure, there's the looming glare of the cameras she has to worry about, that probably encouraged her to play the role of a good wife and attend a family luncheon with her in-laws.

But Katniss hasn't let that stop her from refusing my requests in the past. Usually she'll make an excuse about visiting her family or just pretends to be sick.

She must really feel guilty about what happened yesterday; otherwise I _know_ she would find a way to avoid an uncomfortable encounter with my mom.

I admit driving Katniss to do this is a bit selfish on my part. But if Katniss can use our false relationship to benefit her I don't see why I can't do the same.

In my case, it's to challenge my mother's long-held belief that people from the Seam are the scum of the earth and are completely unworthy of my attention. Her bigotry was one of the main reasons I chose to stay away from Katniss for so many years. I knew that my mother would never approve of my feelings for her. After the Games, I thought my mother's opinions would change, after she had witnessed how much Katniss had sacrificed for me. But I was wrong.


	16. Apology

**Peeta's POV**

It happened only a day after we had gotten back from the Games. I was packing my belongings and getting ready to move into my new house in the Victor's Village. Being the painstakingly neat person she often is, my mom offered to help me clean out my room. We worked quietly for the most part, only interjecting every now and then to pass some item from one side of the room to the other. All of a sudden, my mother interrupted the stiff silence in the room to utter a phrase I never thought I would live to hear from her.

"I'm sorry," she said, sighing softly. "For saying what I did before the Games."

I looked up and stared at her in astonishment. Her apology startled me. This was the first time anyone in my family had brought up what she had said to me during my last hour with my family right before the start of the Games.

"I was so worried about losing you," she confessed. "I didn't think I had raised a young man that was capable of withstanding such danger. "

I noticed her eyes began to well up.

"Mom?" I had never seen my mother cry before. She had always seemed so strong; I didn't even think she was capable of crying.

I wasn't sure of how to act.

I stepped in closer and cautiously put my arm around her shoulder in an attempt to console her. "It's okay, I made it through just fine."

"I know. I underestimated you, Peeta," she sobbed into her hands.

"It's okay, mom. It's okay." I assured, pulling her in for a hug. "I forgive you."

It had been many years since the last time I had hugged my mother. I was seven and my mother had just beaten me for stealing cookies from the bakery. I kept telling her it wasn't me, but she refused to believe me. Later, when she found out it had been the house cat that was eating them she reluctantly admitted her mistake and gave me a hug. After that she got rid of the cat by selling it to one of our neighbors.

"I am so proud of you," she said now, enfolding her arms around me. "You did everything you had to survive."

I held her in my arms for a little while longer; until I was sure she wouldn't cry anymore.

She patted my shoulder and slowly backed away. Her arms jerked up as she hastily wiped away the tears streaming down her face.

"Even if it meant you had to pretend to have feelings for that wretched girl from the Seam."

"What?" I exclaimed in disbelief. "Are you talking about Katniss?"

I don't think she heard me because she just carried on with her insults.

"It was utterly revolting watching you sell yourself to that unworthy tramp," she persisted with a look of disgust etched on her face.

"Don't call her that," I said raising my voice. An instinctive urge took over me, and I couldn't help being defensive. "You don't know her."

Barely a day had passed since Katniss had revealed that her feelings for me weren't real, breaking my heart into two. But, despite my heartache, I couldn't allow anyone to talk about her like that.

"It's alright, Peeta. I understand why you did what you did. She was your district partner. And she was always the one with the best survival instinct. It would only make sense for you to stay by her side until the end."

I stared at her, flabbergasted. "You think I was lying when I told Katniss how I feel about her in the arena?"

"Of course, you were!" she insisted. "Honey, there are no cameras in here, you don't have to worry about what _they _think. The Capitol will never know it was all a hoax."

I was stunned. I had just returned from competing in a barbaric sport where I had been forced to fight to the death against twenty innocent people and the most revolting thing my mother could find in all this was that I was in love with someone below my station. I shook my head incredulously.

"No, mom. It was _never_ a hoax." I proclaimed.

Well, maybe it was on Katniss' part. But certainly not on my end.

"Every single word that came out of mouth during the Games was the honest truth. I have feelings for her. And I care about her. And I've felt that way, for as long as I can remember."

My mom gawked at me, silently waiting for me to take back my words. But I couldn't.

"I love her, Mom."

My mom glared at me with a sharp look of hatred in her eyes.

This was the moment I had been dreading my whole life.


	17. Shame

**Peeta's POV**

The angry expression on my mother's face eased up a little before she opened her mouth to speak again.

"You're young. You're foolish," she reasoned, shaking her head in disbelief. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I might be young and foolish, but I know _exactly_ what I'm saying." I insisted. "And I know that no matter how hard I try to hide it, it's always going to be true."

"What? That you're in love with a coal miner's daughter?" she cried in disbelief.

"Yes!" I snapped back frantically, losing my patience with her.

She was glaring at me again.

I broke off my gaze and quickly busied myself packing the boxes that were still waiting to be filled. After I was finished with one box, I walked over to the next one and began hurling random objects into it. I heard my mom grumble noisily above me.

"Such a downgrade from Valerie," she said in a condescending tone.

"Mom," I said letting out a sigh. "That ended almost a year ago. You need to let it go."

"She was perfect for you," she continued.

"No," I asserted. "She wasn't."

I continued working hastily, dropping one item after the other into the last box remaining in the room.

"Was it because of her?" she asked after a momentary pause. "Is she the reason why you ended things with Valerie?"

I stayed silent, resolving to keep my gaze on my work. There was no point in answering her because she already knew the answer. She just wouldn't accept it.

"Well, it's obvious you don't need me anymore," she said after some time had passed.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed she was making her way out of the room.

She reached the door and hesitated for a second, before turning to face me again.

"You know, you could have picked any other girl from the Seam," she said in quiet voice, "and I would have learned to deal with it." She lingered there for a moment, with a hurt look imprinted on her face, before turning around and carefully closing the door behind her.

I looked up as the door closed with a thud, staring at the spot where my mom had just stood. An enormous amount of guilt washed over me, as I took in the last words she spoke to me.

It never occurred to me that my mother might have realized I knew about my father's relationship with Mrs. Everdeen. My mother never spoke about it and as far as I knew, my father never mentioned it to my brothers. My mother must have found out about it when the Games were being broadcast.

When I was alone in the cave with Katniss during the Games, I told her the story my father had revealed to me so many years ago. At that moment, I wasn't thinking about the cameras. I had completely forgotten that I was in the Games with millions of eyes glued on me from behind their TV screens. In that moment, I had forgotten that I wasn't supposed to know the information I was sharing with Katniss. My mother was so far from my mind at that point, that I didn't bother to think about how she would react once she knew I was aware of her history with Katniss' mom.

I always knew she harbored a lot of anger towards Mrs. Everdeen. I guess she was under the impression that my father still loved Mrs. Everdeen, even after all these years had passed. I don't know if he still loved her, but he probably still cared for her, because every time Katniss or her sister would come in to the bakery he would always find a way to sneak in extra rolls or pastries into their trade. My mother hated when he would do that.

I suppose I understand why she would hate Mrs. Everdeen. It's not easy being married to someone who's in love with someone else.

I realized the affect this had on my mom early on, when I was about thirteen. I knew that was why she couldn't stand the Everdeen sisters and if I came into contact with either of them she would despise me for it.

So I spent the better part of my life trying to avoid them as much as I possibly could. Of course, eluding Katniss posed somewhat of a problem since we were in the same grade, and we shared at least one class together every year. But I promised myself I would ignore her.

Unfortunately, that didn't work out as well as I hoped it would. Instead of keeping me away from Katniss, the situation I was in made me notice her even more.

I tried to push my feelings aside, knowing that admitting them would only cause more pain for my mother. She already felt wounded by my father's feelings for Mrs. Everdeen; I would only make things worse by having feelings for her daughter.

It was because of this that I knew Katniss was wrong for me, in every possible way. Which is why I felt a tremendous lump of guilt swell in my throat right after my mom had exited the room. Her last statement had left me immersed in an incredible amount of shame.

I was supposed to stay away from Katniss. Not fall in love with her.


	18. Proposal

Whatever my mother's opinion of Katniss was, it didn't matter anymore because the Capitol was calling the shots. Only a week after I had spoken to my mom, Katniss and I were engaged in front of a live television audience of millions of viewers spread throughout Panem's twelve districts. A month later, we were married.

My mother had no choice but to be present at the wedding along with the rest of my family—and the Everdeens. Not attending the wedding that even President Snow made an effort to show up to, would easily be branded as an act of defiance against the Capitol. My mom wouldn't risk putting my entire family in danger just to avoid an encounter with an old foe. Luckily, the wedding was packed with enough arbitrary guests from the Capitol that it made an altercation between my mother and Mrs. Everdeen easy to avoid. As grateful as I was that my mother hadn't caused a scene in front of everyone, I still couldn't convince myself to enjoy the wedding.

I had always planned on getting married one day, but I had never envisioned myself getting down on one knee and proposing to a girl who didn't love me. In all honesty, I never even imagined that the girl I would be proposing to would be Katniss Everdeen. It had always seemed like such an absurd possibility.

The day I got home from the Victory Tour, I still didn't have the slightest idea of how I would face my mother after having proposed to the one girl she shunned more than any other. I couldn't even say I did it for love because in this case I didn't. I did it because that's what the Capitol wanted from me.

I tried to convince Katniss that we didn't have to go through with it if we didn't want to, but she kept insisting that we should. When she finally blurted out her real intentions, it felt as if she had shot a dozen arrows straight through my heart.

She was agreeing to marry me in order to spare Gale's life.

It took a while for me to allow the idea to sink in, but ultimately I understood why she did it.

No matter how I tried to look at it, Katniss obviously loved Gale and there wasn't much I could do about it. I knew that if Katniss' life had been threatened and all I had to do was to marry someone I didn't particularly care for, I would do it in a heartbeat.

So I put on the most genuine smile I could manage and grudgingly accepted her request. The artificial look on my face was met with an equally calculated expression of joy on Katniss' face which masked the clear sign of sorrow in her eyes. What existed only as an unlikely mirage in my wildest dreams was now transformed into a real-life nightmare.

I couldn't possibly explain the true motives behind our marriage to my mother when there were so many cameras installed in every corner of my house and even the bakery. So, just in case my mom planned on having any more confrontational talks with me, I avoided her like the plague.


	19. Percy

**Peeta's POV**

After the wedding I spent most of my time at the bakery, and fortunately my mother didn't make an appearance there, at least not when I was around. My father was really understanding about my condition and didn't ask too many questions. I suppose he understood that I needed to be left alone for a while. It was my brother I had to worry about.

My eldest brother Patrick usually worked with me in the backroom baking goods while my father tended to the front of the store with my second oldest brother, Percy.

On Patrick's days off, I ended up working in the back room with Percy—although I'd be better off working on my own, since he doesn't do much else besides talk. On this particular afternoon, he was sitting on a chair and aimlessly chattering about my wedding which took place only a couple of nights ago.

"That was, hands down, the best night of my life. I have never seen that much _food_," he stated emphatically before rambling on.

"There was so much fresh meat." His mouth practically watered at the thought of eating freshly baked meat. Aside from the rare days that a hunter from the Seam would trade their game at the bakery, my family would often go weeks without having any fresh meat on our table; I could see why he was so fascinated by the seven-course feast we were treated to courtesy of the Capitol.

"There was pork, and lamb, and venison, and veal," he sighed nostalgically. "And the women. Capitol women are so _hot_. And they were all so wasted." He stopped for a moment before letting out a mischievous chuckle. "You know, I told some of them I was the Victor, and they were so drunk they bought it. After that, they were practically throwing themselves at me."

Well, I'm glad at least someone enjoyed my wedding night.

"This one broad I hooked up with, her body was _perfect_. She had the biggest tits and the smallest waistline I have ever seen—and I swear it looked like she just popped out of a TV screen—"

"That's because half her body isn't real," I scoffed. "All Capitol women get their body redone on a regular basis. You were basically having sex with a dolled up mannequin."

"I don't care. The sex was good," he insisted. "And that's what really matters. Besides, it wasn't just her. There were a couple of others, too."

This was around the time when I started tuning him out. Percy had a habit of always sharing stories of his exploits with me. He liked the attention it got him, and he knew that since we were supposed to work together in the back room and my father wasn't there to supervise us, I couldn't do much else but listen. I tried to focus my attention on my work as he carried on.

"…Then after the fat one there was the blue one, and when I say blue, I literally mean her skin was _blue_. Not bright blue, but more like a muted shade of blue, like the color of the frosting on your girly little cupcakes," he said nodding his head towards the pan I was arranging. "At first I thought that was really freaky, but then I thought, how many guys do I know that can honestly say they slept with a blue woman from the Capitol? Not a lot."

"I'm not sure that's something you can really brag about," I said rolling my eyes.

"Hey—it doesn't matter what the color of her skin is. Whether she's blue, black, yellow—all women are beautiful. And I don't discriminate," he said with a wink of his eye.

Then his face suddenly screwed up into an expression of dismay. "There was this one chick though. She was gorgeous. She had these really nice, long legs and an incredible body. At some point throughout the night I charmed her enough to get about half her clothes off. I was so convinced I was going to get it. Then, all of a sudden, as I'm pulling her skirt off, I feel something protruding from under her skirt. And it's rubbing up against me. So I automatically pull back and I see—that this chick has a _dick_."

By the time he got to this part of his story, I was already balling with laughter. Percy just continued with his story.

"I knew she definitely had to be a chick," he explained, "because she had a big enough rack to prove it. So I said to her, what in Panem are you? And she tells me, that she had the extra equipment installed, to have sex with more partners."

The look on his face was priceless. He looked genuinely appalled by the information he was revealing to me.

"I told her, that I don't know what they do for fun in the Capitol, but I don't swing that way," he pronounced with a somber shake of his head. "There's_ no way_ I'm doing it with a chick with a penis. I had to tell her off."

"Oh yeah, Perce, your standards are _really_ high," I jibed mockingly.

Percy gave a false laugh before retorting. "Don't think that just because your leg is broken, I won't beat you up."

"My leg is fixed now," I assured him. "But even if it wasn't, I'd still knock you out with my eyes closed. I've done it before."

"I don't take threats from cripples, but I'll let it go just this once. Think of it as a thank you gift for the wonderful wedding you just threw." He said with a phony grin on his face.

"By the way, we should have stayed longer. I could have bagged even more women if you hadn't left so early." He said as his face twisted into an expression of bitter disappointment."What happened? You could've been my wingman!"

"I don't know if you noticed Percy, but I was the _groom_!" I reminded him sarcastically.

"Yeah, and that's exactly why you would have made the perfect wingman! The groom gets all the attention, and I get all the girls." He explained. "I would share, but I doubt your wife would approve," he said as he broke into a fit of laughter.

Actually, Katniss could care less about whether or not I showed interest in other women. But it's not like I could explain that to Percy with all the Capitol cameras leering over us. So I just bit my tongue and held back what I really wanted to say.

I guess my silence caught him off guard so he quickly changed the topic.

"Man that was a fun night," he mumbled with a glazed look on his face. "Those Capitol women, they really know how to have a good time. All they do is party, eat, and have sex," he let out a heavy sigh before continuing. "I could really live my life like that."

"How is that any different from your life now?" I retorted.

"Shut up, I'm here helping you now aren't I?"

"No you're not. You've been sitting on that chair doing nothing for the past half hour."

"I'm on my break, you moron. I put in a dozen trays of cookies into the oven before I even sat down!"

"You're not supposed to go on break until three," I reminded him.

"I took my break a couple hours earlier, so what? Don't get your panties in a twist," he snapped. "You're just like dad," he added with a huff.

_He doesn't even know how right he is._

Despite his defiance, he jumped out of his seat and started helping me mix the second batch of cookies.

"You should bring your wife over," he suggested as he broke a pair of eggs and tossed them into a large bowl filled with flour.

"To the bakery?" I asked with a startled look on my face.

"No, doofus," he replied mockingly. "To the house."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why? You scared mom will bite her head off?"

"Maybe."

"At least she'll be more interesting than Sophie," he said referring to Patrick's wife.

"I don't think _interesting_ is considered a good thing in mom's book."

"Who cares what mom thinks," he scoffed. "You should have seen the look on mom's face when you were with her in the Games."

I don't think Percy fully understood why our mother was so offended by my relationship with Katniss. He was convinced the only reason why our mom didn't like Katniss was because she was from the Seam.

"Marrying a girl from the Seam, that tops just about _everything_ I've ever done," he said reaffirming my suspicion. "If you bring her home, then, I'm telling you, Peeta, mom will hate you more than she's ever hated me. And I will be _so_ jealous."

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. Percy always made an effort to annoy mom, no matter what the costs were.

"Okay, I'll think about it," I said considering the idea. "But just to make you jealous," I joked with a smile.

"Good. I can't wait to see mom's reaction when you bring her home."


	20. Dress

**Peeta's POV**

It was Percy's suggestion that made me realize that bringing Katniss over to my mother's house might actually be a good idea. Normally, I wouldn't be too quick to take his advice, since his ideas usually involve breaking a lot of rules and irritating a lot of people—but every now and then he has his moments of genius.

"Peeta?"

I heard Katniss' voice utter my name, stirring me back to reality.

My mind registered that we were still standing in the flower shop at the Square. Katniss and a little old man that I recognized to be the shop owner were standing in front of me with eager expressions on their faces, obviously waiting for me to reply to a question that I hadn't heard.

"Your dad likes yellow irises right?" Katniss asked repeating her question.

"Oh, yeah. He does," I confirmed with a nod of my head, even though I was utterly confused as to why she was asking me this. It's true that my dad bought a pot of yellow irises from the florist every Sunday for as long as I could remember, but I never thought Katniss would be the type to notice. "How'd you know that?"

"He always has some sitting on the right side of the counter at the bakery," she said with her gaze set on the pot of flowers she was holding. She turned to the florist and added, "I'll take it."

"That's a very fine choice, Katniss," he replied as he led her to the front of the store. "You know irises come in many different varieties. Yellow irises in particular have the ability to distil water."

"That's impressive," Katniss agreed.

"Yes, they are very valuable plants indeed," he muttered to himself as he rang up the purchase.

Katniss paid the little old man for the flowers, and thanked him for his time before turning to leave.

"I'm surprised you noticed what types of flowers my dad likes," I commented, as we left the shop.

"My sister's the one who noticed," she corrected. "Prim loves flowers. She has to know the name of every type she sees."

"Kind of like you?" I prodded lightheartedly.

She hesitated for a moment before responding. "My mom has a book that lists the names of flowers and their medical uses," she explained slowly. "Every now and then I'll read it when I'm bored."

"That explains why you know so much about plants," I reasoned. "But I'm still not sure why you're buying my dad flowers."

"He's been generous to my family over the years," Katniss replied. "He would accept my trades even when no one else would. Now I finally have a chance to pay him back."

My dad has always indirectly taken care of the Everdeen family as much as he could, whether that meant sneaking in a couple extra rolls into their trade or accepting a bad deal. Sometimes he would buy game from Katniss that was so badly damaged that it wasn't even edible. He'd just throw it in the trash later, when she was far enough out of sight.

"My dad wouldn't want you to pay him back," I insisted.

"Not with money," she agreed with a covert grin. "But he can't say no to a pot of flowers."

"Not Irises," I agreed jokingly, remembering that her mother's first name was Iris. I don't know if she caught the reference, but Katniss shot me a cold look and suddenly quickened her pace.

Maybe I shouldn't have said that. Mentioning the relationship your parents once had when you're bringing a girl to your house for the first time might not be the best idea. I immediately tried to compensate for my mistake by changing the topic.

"So…where do you want to go next?"

"The garment shop," she answered, making a beeline straight for it. "I want to buy Prim a new dress."

"You're always buying stuff for Prim," I pointed out as we entered the store. "But you never buy anything for yourself."

Katniss shrugged. "I don't really need anything. Cinna's stock of clothes is more than enough."

I smiled. "You're so selfless."

The scowl on her face that reminded me that she didn't like hearing compliments from me.

"You are," I insisted with a shrug. "The bad thing is you're probably going to end up spoiling Prim."

"No, I won't," she countered defensively.

"You buy her a new dress every week."

"She needs new clothes," she insisted, as she hunted for a dress on a nearby rack. "All she has now are my old clothes. And they don't even fit her."

"But that's the best part about being the youngest in the family," I joked with a shrug, catching her attention. "The younger you are, the more clothes you get."

A faint smile emerged on her face before quickly settling into her usual frown.

"_You_ wear hand-me-down clothes?" she asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I am the youngest of three brothers," I explained. "And my family only has enough money to buy clothes for one, so…"

"You don't have enough money to buy clothes?" she asked disbelievingly. "Peeta, your family owns a _bakery_."

I nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that's true, but running a business costs a lot of money. You have to pay the mortgage, the insurance, the taxes, for the district and the capitol. And then you have to pay for the ingredients and the equipment in order to make the products," I listed. "It's actually a pretty big investment. Most of the money we make goes right back into the bakery and after all that…there isn't much left over for personal expenses."

The look on Katniss' face showed that she clearly didn't expect to hear all that from me. She always seemed shocked to find that my family didn't live in a castle with gold plated furniture and a set of Avoxes waiting on us.

"The people in town always seem like they're so well-off," she mused.

"Yeah, well, that's what they want you to think." I explained. "Merchants like to act as if they're better than people in the Seam, as if they've got it made, but in reality they're just as exploited and impaired by the Capitol as anyone else in the districts."

"I never thought of it that way," she said fixing her shimmering grey eyes on me.

"Most people don't," I shrugged.

She hastily tore her gaze and resumed rummaging through the clothing rack in front of her. Suddenly, she stopped and pulled out a dress for me to see.

"What do you think?"

She waved a light blue pleated dress in front of me with a number of assorted bows carefully positioned on the sleeves and collar. I hadn't seen Katniss' sister much aside from the wedding, but the outfit seemed to fit her style.

"I think she'll like it," I said, nodding my approval.

Katniss turned back to the dress and gave it one more scrutinizing glance.

"Ok, I'll buy this one, then," she said as she folded the dress into her arms. Together, we walked over to the checkout counter and I waited idly as she made her purchase.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a sliver of a face I recognized all too well. I hoped it wouldn't be who I thought it was. I waited until the person I saw turned away from me so as to avoid locking eyes and setting off an interaction that would surely be too awkward to bear.

I kept my gaze down until I finally noticed the silhouette turn and face the opposite direction. My head quickly jerked up to see a glimmer of pale blonde hair curling down over a heavy fur coat. Yep, it was her. The last person I wanted to see right now—Valerie.


	21. Valerie

Valerie Perkins was my first girlfriend. I suppose since I'm married now, she was the only girlfriend I ever had. We broke up several months before the reaping took place. When I was picked, she didn't even bother to visit me before I was hauled off to fight in the Games. I can't really blame her. To say we ended on bad terms would be an understatement.

Since I got back from the Games, I'd been trying to avoid her as much as possible. It wasn't hard to do for the first few months since Effie had scheduled a host of events for me to attend and I was constantly being dragged back and forth between the Capitol and my home district. Between the wedding, the Victory Tour, and a bunch of random ceremonies that I was forced to attend, I was barely home long enough to risk running into an old girlfriend.

Unfortunately, District Twelve is an awfully small town and I knew it wouldn't be long before Valerie and I crossed paths again. Still, as inevitable as it seemed, I couldn't let it happen now, not with Katniss around.

Valerie was the only person who knew about my feelings for Katniss before I announced it to virtually the entire nation on live television. It was because of this, that I knew she would do everything she could to make an encounter between her and Katniss extremely uncomfortable.

All I could do now was to try and dodge Valerie's gaze and get Katniss out of the store as quickly as possible. Luckily, Katniss had just finished making her purchase, so I swiftly turned at my heel and started making a beeline for the door. Katniss didn't seem to mind my quickened pace and followed suit until we reached the door. All of a sudden, she stopped at the window near the exit to examine a bag on display.

"Maybe I should buy Prim one of these," she said thoughtfully. "She could use it to store her medical supplies." Katniss gingerly picked at the pockets as she surveyed the bag.

I began to grow inpatient, so I hastily thought of an excuse to get out of the shop before Valerie caught sight of me. "Okay, I'll just step out for some air. You can meet me when you're done," I said as inconspicuously as possible. I was certain that if I wasn't there, Valerie wouldn't dare approach Katniss alone.

Katniss turned to look at me and an air of concern fell over her face. "Are we running late? We can go if you want."

"Um, no." I didn't want to be imposing. "You can stay here, and buy the bag. I'll just step outside for a minute," I said flashing a polite smile in her direction.

"It's alright, I'll just buy it tomorrow."

"Okay, great," I replied as I made a start towards the exit.

Suddenly I heard a deafening noise that made me stop dead in my tracks.

"Peeta Mellark?"

The astonished voice that cried out was unmistakably Valerie's, and just like that I was caught in yet another situation that I tried desperately to avoid; there was nothing I could do about it anymore. It would be rude to continue walking and Katniss had already paused to try to figure out who had called out my name.

I turned to face Valerie, and saw her break free from her group of friends and jubilantly saunter over to where I stood with Katniss. Her light colored locks bounced as she walked nearer and I noticed her pouty lips spread into a warm smile. I tried returning the gesture, but I doubt the contrived expression on my face was enough to hide the disappointment I truly felt.

"Valerie!"I said trying to feign a tone of surprise, once she got within earshot.

"Peeta! I can't believe it," she exclaimed gleefully."It's really you!"

All of a sudden, she lunged at me, and draped her arms around my neck, pulling me into a tight embrace. I immediately felt her silky soft hair brush up against my cheek and it's familiar flowery scent find it's way to my nose. We hadn't talked for months after we broke up, so this was definitely not the reaction I was expecting. I guess being thrown into a competition where your life is on the line can really change the way people act towards you.

"I was worried sick about you," she whispered into my ear, digging her hands into the back of my shirt. My muscles tensed at the sudden action and I pulled back slightly instead of returning her hug. Valerie seemed to sense my unease and quickly let go.

"How are you?" she asked sheepishly, taking a few steps back.

"I'm fine. I…uh…wasn't expecting to see you here."

"I can say the same thing about you," she replied. "It seems like the only time I get to see you lately is when your face is splayed across a TV screen."

"Yeah," I said letting out an awkward laugh. "The Capitol's been very good at keeping me busy."

"I figured that much. So...are you going to introduce me to your wife?" she suggested.

"Oh, yeah—Katniss," I said turning to her. "This is Valerie. She's an old friend."

"Hi," Katniss said with a meek smile.

"Hi," Valerie retorted in a tone that was dripping with sarcasm.

"And I suppose you already know Katniss," I said turning back to Valerie. "From the Games," I added quickly.

"Of course, I do. But I'm glad I finally get to meet you," she cooed with a phony smile plastered on her face. "I like your sweater. Where'd you get it?"

I'd been worried that Valerie might say something spiteful so I was relieved at how friendly she sounded.

"Thanks," Katniss replied cordially. "It was a gift."

"The Capitol really did wonders for you," she mused. "You know, without the tattered clothing and coal covered complexion, I can barely tell you're from the Seam."

I should have known this was coming. I could tell by the way that Katniss tightened her jaw that she felt offended by her words, but she didn't say anything.

"There's really not much the Capitol can do to improve what's already perfect," I interjected, smiling at Katniss and taking her hand in mine. From my peripheral view I saw Valerie grimace in response.

"You know, I'm getting married soon. You're both invited," Valerie informed us pointedly. "Of course, it won't be as grand as your wedding at the Capitol, but it'll be the biggest toasting this town's ever seen," she concluded with a sweet smile. "I'd be so glad if you could make it."

"We'll be sure to come," I assured, even though I knew the chances of us actually showing up were really slim.

"Wonderful. You'll get to meet my fiancé, Richard Brooks. He's a really great guy." She said batting her eyelashes. "He owns the bank."

"I'm sure he's amazing. Listen, we have to get going now. But it was nice seeing you again."

"You too," she replied with a glint in her green eyes. "I'll see you at the toasting."

A wave of relief washed over me as we left the shop. I was grateful we had managed to leave the conversation relatively unscathed because I knew it could have gone a lot worse than that.

"I'm sorry," I apologized to Katniss once we were out the door. "I didn't mean for you to get tied up in all that."

"Is that why you were in such a hurry to leave?"

I nodded. "She shouldn't have said that about you."

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

"That still doesn't make it alright for her to say that to you," I argued.

"It's not a big deal," she shrugged. "She's probably nothing compared to your mom."

It dawned on me that perhaps the meeting between my mom and Katniss would do more to hurt their relationship rather than improve it. "We don't have to go if you don't want to," I assured quickly.

"I already bought the flowers,"she reasoned.

"You can always keep them," I suggested. "They'll look real nice in our foyer."

She shook her head. "Then I'd just continue to feel indebted to your father—and to your family."

"Oh come on, Katniss, you don't owe my family anything. All the trades we've made with you in the past were completely fair."

"No, not all. When my sister and I used to visit the bakery, your dad would always offer us cookies free of charge. If we refused, he'd find a way to sneak it into our trade bag."

"Those are just complimentary treats he gives out to loyal customers," I lied. "He does that all the time."

"Your dad visited me before the Games started."

"He did?" I asked in astonishment.

She gave a terse nod.

I was completely taken aback by this news. I knew that my dad cared about the Everdeens, but the visiting hours directly preceding the Games were limited to only close friends and family. As far as I knew, my father had no idea about my feelings for Katniss before the Games began, so I couldn't think of a single reason why he would visit her, much less what they would discuss."What did he say to you?"

"He gave me bundle of cookies," she said with a sheepish look on her face.

"Huh. My dad gave me a bundle of cookies, too." I was completely bewildered at this point.

"I never got to pay him back for the cookies," she stated plainly.

"Oh, wow," I exclaimed in surprise, finally grasping the reason behind her actions. "So that's what this is about? The flowers and all?"

Katniss nodded her head guiltily.

"You don't have to pay him back for the cookies, Katniss."

"Yes, I do," she declared forcefully.

"No you don't. It was a gift," I insisted.

"Well, then, I'm giving him a gift too."

I sighed in exasperation. "Not everything is a business transaction, Katniss."

"Then, what is it?" she challenged.

"It's just a notion of kindness," I explained.

"Why would your father be kind to me, without wanting anything in return?"

"Maybe, what he gets in return doesn't have to benefit him," I reasoned. "Maybe he's just satisfied seeing that other people are happy."

Katniss' eyebrows knitted over in confusion as she tried to make sense of my logic. The thoughtful expression on her face was so cute it made me burst into a smile.

When she finally finished mulling over the idea, her face loosened up and she said, "You know, I think it'll be interesting to meet your dad."


	22. Shattered

**Katniss' POV**

"My dad likes you," Peeta said. "So I'm sure he'll be a lot easier to get along with than my mom. And my mom can't really say anything bad to you with all the cameras in the house," he added reassuringly.

I doubt the cameras would keep Mrs. Mellark from being the terribly mean person I know her to be. But despite this, I agreed to accompany Peeta to his mother's house anyway. At least this way, I'll be able to pay back his father for the cookies he gave me, which were obviously very expensive. Even though I hadn't eaten them, I still felt obligated to reimburse him for his trouble.

I initially planned to give Mr. Mellark a gift through Peeta, but I suppose Peeta would have simply refused the gift, and if I persisted that would only have made him suspicious. So the best course of action would be to give Mr. Mellark the gift myself, face to face, just as he had done for me.

Going to eat lunch at Peeta's parents' house is not something I would normally consider doing, but I felt really bad about how things turned out last night. I could tell Peeta felt really hurt by my actions, so I was hoping I could make it up to him by being more accommodating. Besides, going to see my in-laws would only help me in the long run—it would surely look good on camera and perhaps even make Peeta more willing to go along with my plan.

I know it's selfish, and my plan isn't the best, but I had to do something. I couldn't just sit by idly for the next eight months waiting for the Quarter Quell to begin in order to see whether or not Prim's life would be in danger. I had to do _something_ to make sure Prim's safety was secured. Even if that meant getting pregnant, or having children, or breaking Peeta's heart in the process—nothing was too great of a price to ensure that my sister lived to see another day. Prim hadn't done anything wrong, and she shouldn't have to pay the price for my mistakes. She still had her whole life ahead of her, and she didn't deserve to have it all snatched away simply because I unwittingly rebelled against the Capitol when I spared Peeta's life.

When Peeta and I had defied the Capitol we barely slipped past a compulsory execution, so now we both had to live with the consequences of our transgression. When President Snow had paid me a visit for the second and last time, he made it plain that there would be dire consequences if we did not obey the rules he set out for us.

I couldn't explain this to Peeta because then he definitely wouldn't go along with my plan. He would just go on about how he wants to preserve his humanity, when this wasn't even a question of humanity. It was a question of survival. I am not willing to put those that I love in danger for the preservation of a trivial idea, such as _humanity_. I couldn't possibly tell Peeta the extent of my conversation with President Snow, because then _he_ would be tied into it as well. I couldn't bear if another life was lost because of me. So there was nothing left to do but to think of a scheme on my own.

I had originally hoped that visiting Peeta's parents' would soften his disposition towards me and eventually convince him to agree with my plan. But all my hopes were shattered when we ran into Valerie.

Peeta introduced her to me as an old friend but I knew they were more than just that. I remember seeing them together at school and even at the bakery sometimes. It was clear that they were definitely_ more_ than just friends.

I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts during the Games, worrying about how my staged displays of romance would affect my relationship with Gale that I hadn't even stopped to consider whether or not Peeta had a girlfriend.

Now that I think of it, I clearly remember Peeta going out with a girl that looked exactly like Valerie for several months in the past year, and I don't even know if they broke up before he was reaped. What if they never had? What if Valerie had to watch her boyfriend serenade another girl for five weeks while the Games were aired? What if Peeta had to give up his relationship with Valerie in order maintain the façade of the one he had with me? Perhaps that's why he was so reluctant to propose to me, and why he constantly turned down my efforts at intimacy, especially last night. Maybe—he still loved her.

That definitely explains why their conversation at the store was so awkward, and why he seemed so desperate to avoid her. It must be difficult to face your former girlfriend after you basically cheated her on live television. Did she think that I stole him from her? I couldn't help but think it was my fault. I hated the idea that I might have been the cause of their break up, but that's probably why she was so rude to me.

At the end of the Games, Peeta had confessed that his feelings for me were real, but I don't know how much of that I am willing to believe. At first, I was entirely convinced that all of Peeta's actions were part of a well-devised ruse to pass us off as lovers and get us both out of the arena alive. Certainly, it must have been something that Haymitch formulated to ensure our survival. But as the Games went on, I began noticing how genuinely sincere Peeta sounded and how some of the things he told me, he couldn't have possibly made up. Still, when I returned to district twelve after the Victory Tour had ended, Gale convinced me otherwise.


	23. Gale's Advice

_It was shortly after my televised engagement to Peeta, that Gale and I met up for our weekly hunt that following Sunday. I hoped that Gale would somehow ignore the fact that I got engaged during the Victory Tour, but I knew in the back of my mind that he would eventually bring it up and I would have no choice but to explain the situation to him._

"_Hey," I called out as I got nearer to where Gale stood at our usual meeting place in the woods._

_I noticed his dark hair was more matted than usual and his overall appearance seemed distressed. I hoped he wasn't thinking about the engagement. I gave him a reassuring smile. Gale didn't return my gesture, but instead looked up at me with a pained expression on his face._

"_Is it true?" he asked tersely. "You're going to marry him?"_

_My face fell. My plan to avoid this topic was already derailed only two seconds into the conversation._

"_Yes," I said plainly. I quickly turned away from him and tread through the thicket of trees trying to disengage him from the conversation. These woods were the place I ran to for comfort when everything in my world seemed to fall apart. I came there that day so that I could forget about the engagement, and Peeta, and everything else that was related to the Capitol—and yet it followed me there anyway._

_Behind me, I could hear the rhythm of Gale's feet silently hitting the ground as he followed me into the woods._

"_Why'd you do it?" he asked once he caught up to me._

_I pretended not to hear him and continued hiking further into the forest._

_Suddenly, I felt his fingers gently grip my elbow and pull me to a stop._

"_Catnip," he said locking his gray eyes on mine. "Can you please tell me why you did it?"_

_I breathed a heavy sigh and hesitated for a moment before I finally replied. "I had no choice."_

"_Did he force you into it?" I could hear the anger growing in his voice._

"_Peeta? __No. He had nothing to do with it," I denied fervently. If anything, I was the one who forced Peeta into it._

"_Then who was it?"_

"_President Snow visited my house a couple weeks ago," I explained. "He made it clear that there wasn't any option for us except to get married."_

"_Why? What did he say?"_

"_He said that it would go well with our star-crossed lover story," I said desperately trying to avoid telling him the real reason I chose to marry Peeta. I didn't want to make him feel guilty about the situation I was in._

"_And you just did it?" he asked incredulously._

"_Yes," I clipped impatiently, wishing to end this conversation._

_"Catnip, since when have you ever given in to the Capitol's rules so easily?"_

"_Since other people's lives were at stake," I insisted with hint of anger in my voice._

"_Whose?" he urged._

"_Yours," I blurted out. Why did he have to push it? Sometimes Gale can be stubborn to a fault._

"_What? Why would he go after me?" he called out in disbelief._

"_He saw our kiss, Gale," I said leveling my voice. "Snow swore that if anyone got in the way of the public's perception of my relationship with Peeta...he would make sure that that person suffered."_

"_I shouldn't have done that," he said with a look of horror on his face. "Now you're married to that dewy-eyed Townie and it's all my fault."_

_I agree. He shouldn't have kissed me. He should have just left things exactly as they were—simple and risk-free._

"_It doesn't matter," I asserted pointedly. "I wasn't planning on marrying anyone anyway."_

_We walked on for a few minutes in complete silence, hearing nothing but the sweet chirping of birds and the quiet rustle of leaves as we pushed our way through the woods._

"_Do you love him?" he asked suddenly._

"_No—of course not," I said completely taken aback by his question._

"_Do you like him?"_

_I grinned. "I tolerate him."_

"_Good," he said giving a sigh of relief. "I almost thought you fell for his tricks. I knew you were too smart for that."_

"_Gale," I said slowly, "I don't think he was trying to trick me." It was more the other way around_.

"_Come on, Catnip. Of course he was," he said with an amused grin on his face. "All that nonsense he made up about falling in love with you—it was obviously a lie."_

"_It's not a lie," I argued defensively. "He was telling the truth."_

_That immediately wiped the grin off his face._

"_Wait, so, you actually believe him?" he said with a concerned look on his face._

_I shrugged. "There's no reason not to believe him."_

"_There are plenty of reasons not to believe him," he replied in frustration._

"_Like what?"_

"_Like the fact that he knew you for ten years and he never even spoke a word to you—until the moment his life was in danger."_

_It was more than ten years. But he had a point. Still, I decided to give Peeta the benefit of the doubt._

"_Maybe he was scared," I reasoned._

"_He didn't seem all too scared when he told the whole world how he felt about you during the Games."_

_I shook my head. "He was willing to sacrifice his life for me, Gale."_

"_Only because he knew you'd be willing to do the same for him."_

"_But I killed other tributes. I could have easily done the same to him."_

"_Not if he convinced you that he was worth sparing."_

"_Why would he work so hard at gaining my trust if he didn't care about me?"_

"_Because he knew you would kill him if he didn't. You got the highest score from the judges. If you two were left in the arena together, it's obvious who would be the one left standing."_

_This last thought was so in tune with my own suspicions that I fell silent. After a few moments of consideration I spoke up again, in a softer voice. "But everything he said about when we were younger…it was all true."_

"_Just because he saw you sing once when you were five doesn't mean he fell in love with you."_

"_Maybe he did."_

"_Townies don't fall in love with girls from the Seam," he sighed. "They just get what they want and leave. You've seen it happen many times before."_

"_He's different."_

"_No he's not, Catnip."_

"_Why do you care how I feel about him?"_

"_I just don't want to see you get hurt."_

This conversation replayed in my mind as I headed down a street filled with neatly aligned houses in the Merchant side of town.

After having that conversation with Gale I wasn't really quite sure of what to believe anymore. I know Gale looks out for me, so I usually take his advice seriously. If anything, it definitely planted a doubt in my mind about how Peeta truly felt about me.

This doubt was only heightened once I met Valerie. It made me think that perhaps Gale _was_ right. Maybe Peeta didn't love me, but instead he was still in love with a girlfriend from his past.

In that case, I couldn't fathom pushing him to be intimate with me, and my entire plan to save Prim would be ruined. It was already bad enough that Peeta was forced into a fake marriage with me. I would feel too guilty carrying out my plan if he still had feelings for someone else.

I saw Peeta stop in front of a house that was two stories high and completely covered with beige shingles and lavender curtained windows. It was surrounded by a sturdy yet antiquated porch and a modest amount of shrubbery. Apparently, this was his parents' home—a place Peeta had lived in his entire life up until now.

The house looked much like it did on that fateful rainy day, many, many years ago, when I had my first encounter with Peeta—back when I only knew him as the boy with the bread. Today, the sun was out and shined down brightly on the estate, making it look far less menacing than it once seemed.

The weather wasn't the only thing that changed since then. I was no longer the deprived, feeble boned child that rummaged through dumpsters looking for a meal. I was now a Victor, with my own home, my own earnings, and my own unending supply of nourishment. That is why I chose to wear Cinna's custom made clothes to this visit. Of course, being a Victor was not something I was particularly proud of, but I wanted to show Peeta's mother that people from the Seam were perfectly capable of becoming respected and accomplished individuals.

Another thing that changed since the last time I visited Mrs. Mellark's residence is that now I was married to her son. That last piece of information is what unsettled me and caused me to grow slightly nauseous.

The only time Peeta and I made appearances together was in front of cameras or giddy Capitol residents at fancy Capitol sponsored parties. At all these events, we always made sure to hold hands, ogle at each other lovingly, and act excessively romantic with one another. But we never displayed our relationship in front of anyone else, not in district twelve, and certainly not to anyone as close as family.

Did Peeta expect me to act my usual part as the overly affectionate wife? I hoped not. I noticed there was a camera placed right above the entrance of house, so I couldn't very well ask Peeta about this—at least not openly. I decided to give it a try anyway.

I saw Peeta take out his keys and realized that my time was running out.

"Are you going to introduce me as your wife?" I blurted out nervously.

Peeta paused and thought about my question before responding.

"How about I introduce you as the girl who saved my life," he said gently wrapping his fingers over mine. He shot me a comforting grin. "And as my friend."

This time I smiled back.


	24. Meet the Mellarks

**Peeta's POV**

As we stepped into my parent's house, I desperately clung to Katniss' hand for protection, just in case my mother's reaction would be worse than I thought. I was glad Katniss didn't refuse my hand the way she usually does, because I was really nervous and I needed her grasp to keep me steady. I knew having Katniss meet my mom wasn't the best idea, but it was something that would have to be done eventually, so we might as well just get it over with now.

The second we stepped over the threshold into the house, I took off my shoes since I knew my mother gets extremely upset if anyone dirties her spotless floors. Katniss noticed so she silently mimicked my actions and did the same.

Luckily, the entrance led directly into a hallway that was obscured from where my parents sat in the dining room eating their lunch, so I had a few minutes to gather my thoughts and figure out exactly how I was going to do this without causing any serious trouble. I warned my parents of my plan to bring Katniss over for lunch in advance, but I doubt they believed me when I said it.

"Is that you, son?" My father called out from the other room.

"Yeah, dad, I'm here for lunch," I announced, clutching onto Katniss' fingers for support.

"We already started, but come take a seat," he said. "We would have waited, but we didn't expect you to come so late."

"Oh, hush Phillip. He's always coming late now," my mother chipped in coldly. "He thinks that just because he's a Victor he can disregard his parents altogether."

"Sorry I'm late mom," I replied as we neared the dining room entrance. "I brought someone with me."

As I appeared in the entrance of the dining room with Katniss' hand in mine, I saw the look on my mom's face change from her usual expression of mild discontent into one of pure hatred and alarm.

"Katniss will be joining us for lunch today," I informed them cheerily.

"No, she won't," my mother snapped with a stubborn shake of her head.

"Yeah, actually, she will." I insisted. I got this far, and I wasn't backing down now.

"Hello, Katniss," my father interjected politely. "It's so nice to see you again. Please take a seat and join us," he said motioning to a chair on the opposite end of the table.

"No, I think it's better if I just go," Katniss said quickly letting go of my hand. "I'll have lunch at my mom's house."

"Oh, yes, that's a swell idea, dear," my mother replied in sugary tone. "I'm afraid your sort wouldn't fit in with a well-to-do family like ours."

"She'll fit in just fine," I countered back heatedly before turning to Katniss and catching her hand once more. "Please stay," I implored in softer voice.

"Peeta, I'd like to have a word with you," my mom interrupted in a menacing tone. "On the patio. _Now_."

"Please," I begged Katniss once more, before letting go of her hand and following my mom onto the patio.

The moment the patio door closed, my mom began shouting at me.

"How could you bring that _filth_ into my house?" she cried with disgust.

"Mom, she saved my life—" I said trying to reason with her.

"Well, I brought you into this life, so you do as I say," she yelled in a threatening voice.

"After all that she's done for me, the least you can do is to show her a little decency."

"I went to the wedding, that's enough decency," she barked back doggedly. "Now you get her out of my house."

"We're just here for lunch," I insisted.

"You can have lunch together in your house—not in mine," she declared persistently, crossing her arms.

"Well, we're already here. And we're hungry," I argued. "So we'll just eat and be on our way."

"Alright, then. You can sit here and eat with your father," she conceded. "I'll be upstairs."

"Mom," I sighed. "You haven't even finished your meal."

"I am _not_ sharing a meal with a rotten street urchin from the Seam."

"Can you please stop with all the bashing and the name-calling? All I'm asking is for you to give her a chance."

She looked at me with a stony expression on her face and her arms were still crossed, but I knew that her guard was slowly whittling down.

"Please, just sit with us," I continued pleadingly. "A couple minutes is not going to kill you. You don't even have to say anything to her. You don't even have to make eye contact. I promise. If it bothers you too much, then you can go upstairs."

She hesitated for a moment before uncrossing her arms and replying.

"One wrong word and I am gone," she stated with a wag of a finger.

"Thank you, Mom. You have no idea how much this means to me," I sighed in relief, and hoped that everything would go well, but in the back of my mind I knew that things could still get a lot worse.


	25. Unanswered Question

**Katniss' POV**

Once the patio door closed shut I heard the muffled sounds of Peeta's mother screaming at him, which only added to the growing tension in the room now that I was left all alone with Peeta's father.

"Don't mind the commotion. They'll sort things out," he assured me. "They always do."

I was still deliberating whether or not I should leave, when I remembered the pot of flowers stashed in my bag. I fished out the flowers from inside the bag and placed them on the edge of the table.

"For the cookies," I explained.

His face broke into a genuine smile as he carefully examined the gift.

"Yellow irises," he said thoughtfully. "You know, Katniss, I don't usually accept payment for gifts, but these are my favorite. Thank you."

I didn't know what else to say so I just stood there, trying to muster up the strength to ask the question that had been plaguing my mind for the last couple of months.

"Why did you give me the cookies?" I finally managed to ask in a hushed voice. My fingers instinctively dug into the plastic of the bag I was holding, as I anxiously waited for Mr. Mellark to reply. But he didn't. He only stared up at me with an curious expression in his eyes.

Peeta must have said something to appease his mother's anger in the other room, because eventually the noise coming from the patio died down—but this created a somber silence that merely added to the tension in the dining room.

"Why don't you sit down, Katniss," Mr. Mellark proposed delicately.

I took his suggestion and quietly sat down in a seat opposite him.

"How has your day been?" he asked suddenly.

"Fine," I muttered, slightly annoyed that he wasn't answering my question.

"You went shopping in the Town Square today?" he said motioning to the bag I held in my hands.

"Yes," I replied, as I unclenched the bag and carefully draped it over a chair post behind me.

"And did you find something for yourself?"

I nodded. "A dress—for my sister."

"Oh, is it her birthday already?"

"No. It's no special occasion. She just needs new clothes."

"I see," Mr. Mellark paused for a second before continuing. "So I take it, your sister informed you of what she needed before you made your trip to the store?"

"No, she didn't have to say anything. I already know what she needs."

"If she needs a new dress, then surely she should be able to ask for it," he pointed out.

I didn't understand why he was questioning me about a dress I bought for my sister. The things I chose to buy and my reasons for buying them were private and certainly none of his business. And frankly, I was getting annoyed by the manner in which he chose to ignore my question.

"I suppose she doesn't really need it," I conceded in an attempt to end the conversation. "She does have other clothes."

"Well, if she doesn't need a new dress, then what compelled you to buy her one?"

"Because," I started with a hint of exasperation in my voice. "I wanted her to have it."

"And naturally you expect her to compensate you for such a gift?"

"No, of course not," I said brushing off his ridiculous suggestion with a small laugh.

"But I wonder what is it that _you_ get out of this transaction?"

This question caught me off guard. I never thought of the things I did for my sister as being part of some sort of transaction; a contract where two people trade an item for another of equal value. I just liked doing things for my sister because of how happy it would make her.

"I suppose I get the satisfaction of making my sister happy."

"Yes, because sometimes we do things for others simply because we believe that they deserve a little happiness in their lives—and we hold no concern as to how that happiness will benefit us."

Mr. Mellark stayed silent for a couple moments and allowed me to take in what had just happened.

"I hope I've helped you answer your question, Katniss," he finally added with a smile.

Mr. Mellark was saying that the reason he gave me the cookies is because he thought I deserved a little happiness in my life. He didn't expect to gain anything from it, much like I never expected to get anything in return when I showered Prim with gifts of food and clothing.

It made sense for him to assume that my life lacked in happiness in the days that immediately followed the reaping. In volunteering for the Games, I had automatically lost my family, my friends, and my freedom all in one night, and I was being dragged away to a distant land with the threat of never being able to see them again. I was definitely in need of a pick-me-up and that's what the cookies were supposed to be. But, unfortunately, instead of appreciating the gift, I threw it away. At that time, I was entirely convinced that the cookies were just a clever ruse intended to trick me into trusting Peeta and rendering me an easy kill in the Games. But in reality, those weren't his intentions at all.

I felt guilty for holding a misguided grudge against Mr. Mellark for so long—so much that I couldn't even look him in the eye anymore.

I sheepishly lowered my gaze and resorted to examining the table in front of me instead. I softly brushed my fingertips against the polished texture of the table. Its oversized grains made it easy to see that the wood used to build it came from a Beech tree. The wooden floors stretching out from beneath the table clearly came from a white oak and were spotless and polished too. In front of the table stood a large wooden cabinet, with glass doors, that housed a wide variety of ornamental dishes and trinkets placed on display.

The house I grew up didn't have a dining room. Like most houses in the Seam, we only had a kitchen, a living room, one bathroom, and one bedroom. Luckily, my father was a skilled craftsman and he built a wooden barrier that split our bedroom into two, making a room for me and Prim to share. Since we didn't have a dining room, we ate all our meals on the kitchen table, which also doubled as a gurney for my mom's medical work. My father built our kitchen table from wood he had chopped down from an old cherry tree in the forest. The table was simple in design, and we couldn't afford a polish for the wood, but it was sturdy and managed to do its job well. It's astounding to see how long that table has survived even after all these years of use.

"Now, you must be hungry," Mr. Mellark remarked. "I'll fetch you a plate." He stood up and hurried into the kitchen.

I could see the inside of the kitchen from where I sat. It was perhaps two or three times as big as the kitchen in my mother's home. Inside, there was an advanced model of the typical district twelve oven and a variety of machines that I had never seen before until my very first trip to the Capitol. Now I had all these gadgets and more installed in the kitchen that I shared with Peeta. I still wasn't accustomed to using most of them, and didn't see a point in learning since all I needed to cook my meat was an open fire.

Mr. Mellark came back into the room with a plate of food in one hand and a set of eating utensils in the other.

"Please, help yourself," he said placing the plate in front of me. "Before the food gets cold."

"No, I'll wait," I replied. It would be rude to begin eating before Peeta and his mom joined us. Besides, I wasn't entirely sure if Mrs. Mellark wanted me here, or if she was still intent on kicking me out.

Mr. Mellark sat down and began cutting a loaf of bread that sat in front of him. He silently handed me a slice and placed another on Peeta's plate.

I wasn't sure of what to discuss with Mr. Mellark. Normally, when I came to the bakery to make a trade we would make polite small talk about business. I tried initiating a business oriented conversation like this, but made sure to carefully omit any mention of my trade, due to the recently added surveillance cameras in the house.

"How's the bakery?" I asked.

"It's doing well. Surprisingly, the recent surge of Peacekeepers has led to an increase in business," he said trying to mask the true downward scale of business.

"Even a soldier can't resist a frosted cookie," he joked.

Business in district twelve was anything but well. Ever since the Capitol sent more Peacekeepers into the district they've been inspecting every shop in the square and in the Seam, fining some and closing down others if they were deemed inadequate. Sometimes they would even burn down entire shops. But this wasn't something you could discuss in a room filled with Capitol cameras. So I just smiled at his joke instead.

I noticed the windows behind him were framed with curtains adorned in a familiar flower pattern. My mother had a similar set of curtains hanging from our kitchen windows. It was one of the few things she managed to bring with her when she ran away from her parents' home and came to live with my father.

All of a sudden, the patio door swung open and Peeta entered the dining room with his mother following closely behind him. I don't know what he said to her, but she seemed to be in a slightly more pleasant mood than she had been before. Still, that didn't erase my apprehension about her attitude towards me. With her in the room, I automatically felt unwelcome in the Mellark home.


	26. Family Luncheon

**Katniss' POV**

"Let's eat," Mrs. Mellark said to her husband as she found her way back to her seat. Peeta walked over to where I sat and took his place beside me.

Peeta's mother sat at the head of the table with her husband and son on either side of her. Luckily, I was seated far enough so that I didn't actually have to make eye contact with her. I tried to focus on my plate.

"Are you alright?" Peeta asked me softly.

I nodded my head in response.

"Thanks for staying," he whispered, leaning closer to my ear. "Is Percy eating with us today?" he asked turning to his father.

"No, he went out with his friends," Mr. Mellark replied. "He won't be coming home until later."

"Your brother is always running around in the streets like some homeless scoundrel," his wife added. "He has no concern as what that does to my health."

"He's just out with his friends, dear," Mr. Mellark consoled his wife. "There's no need to worry."

Despite his mother's disapproving comments, Peeta seemed slightly relieved at his father's answer and immediately began eating the food on his plate.

No one was yelling at me to get out yet, so I took that as my cue to start eating too.

"Phillip, what are your flowers doing on the table?" Mrs. Mellark remarked suddenly noticing the gift I had given to Mr. Mellark. "How many times have I told you? It gets the tablecloth dirty."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear," her husband replied as he stood up and placed the pot of flowers on the windowsill right beside the curtains that had caught my eye earlier. "I only got them just now."

"Did you?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. As a gift, from Katniss," he informed her as he sat down again.

I could feel his wife glare at me from across the table.

"Oh how sweet. You brought my husband a gift," she said as she twisted her face into an artificial look of gratitude. "Is that something your mother told you to do?"

"No," I answered. I wasn't sure if she was implying that my mom had a hidden agenda to get in touch with Mr. Mellark or she was simply questioning my morals—either way, I felt offended.

"It's a harmless gift," Mr. Mellark assured his wife. "It is customary for people to give gifts to their hosts when they're visiting their home for the first time. There's really no need to read into it more than that."

"Well, we surely can't accept it," his wife stated resolutely. She turned to me before continuing. "Your family is far needier than ours, dear. I've seen the houses in the Seam; the conditions your people live in are absolutely horrid. I'm sure your mother's house is no different, and a pot of flowers would do it some good."

_My family is not needy. __I have always been able to provide everything my family has ever needed. We had fresh meat on our table every night. Townies on the other hand, depended on me to bring in game and supply them with raw meat. Without the hunters from the Seam, they would eat nothing but bread._

"Mom, Katniss is trying to be nice," Peeta spoke up in my defense. "Maybe you should do the same."

"I _am_ being nice, darling. It's obvious that your wife should save up her share of the money to feed her starving family, rather than to buy gifts for people who don't need them."

_It was stupid to think that my gift would be appreciated. It was obvious that their family was wealthy enough to afford everything that they needed and more._

"Her family is not starving," Peeta disagreed. "You're being really rude. You need to stop."

"Oh, hush, Peeta. I am just trying to help her."

_My family got along just fine without any help from the merchant side of town. I never needed help from Townies and I never will._

"I don't need your help," I finally spoke up. "And neither does my family."

"Well, we don't need your gifts, dear. Why don't you take that pot of flowers back to your mother's house and let her know that her gifts are not welcome in my home."

_It was obvious what she was implying. Everything related to my mother wasn't welcome in her home. Including me._

"It's not my mother's gift," I insisted. "It's _my_ gift."

"Oh? And what reason do you have for giving _my_ husband a gift?"

_She's so controlling and possessive. How can her family stand her?_

"To pay him back for the cookies he gave me," I replied hastily. Only seconds after the words slipped out of my mouth I noticed Peeta faintly shaking his head and mouthing something at me out of the corner of my eye. But it was already too late.

"What cookies, Phillip?" Mrs. Mellark demanded, turning to her husband.

I watched Peeta shroud his face with his hands and sink his head in defeat. His father let out an exasperated sigh and reluctantly responded to the question.

"I gave her a package of cookies before the games began."

"Oh?" his wife inquired, her eyebrows furrowing over in suspicion. "Is that why you were carrying two packages that night we went to visit Peeta?"

"Yes," her husband explained calmly. "One was for him. The other was for her."

"I assumed they were both for Peeta," she remarked with a hint of disapproval.

"Honey, that is far too much sugar for one boy to eat," Mr. Mellark replied lightheartedly. "All his teeth would have fallen out."

"Well, our boy needs to eat," his wife scolded. "Even more so during his trip to the Capitol, considering the _situation_ he was in."

"There was food on the train, Mom," Peeta interjected. "I barely even touched the cookies."

_Okay, I feel slightly better about throwing out the cookies now._

"Hush, Peeta," his mother reproached him. "It is rude to interrupt when your superiors are talking."

Peeta sighed and gave up trying to be a part of the conversation. He focused on finishing his food instead. His mother continued to hound her husband.

"She was his competition, Phillip!" she exclaimed with an angry gesture of her hand. "Why would you give her half his food?"

"Now, Helen, I always give cookies to the children that get reaped—remember I did the same for Gregory and Hannah just last year."

"They were our relatives and our neighbors," his wife asserted sternly. "She is neither."

"She was in the same position that they were in. Having to leave your family is a hard thing to do for any child."

"Our cookies are a commodity," she insisted doggedly.

"Sometimes it's worth sacrificing some financial gain in exchange for doing what's right."

"We don't do charity, Phillip," she declared angrily.

_Is that's what they saw me as? A charity case? Well, then, I'm glad I didn't eat those cookies. I didn't need charity from anyone. Especially not the Mellarks._

"If we gave away cookies every time you felt sorry for someone from the Seam, we'd be out of business by now," Mrs. Mellark asserted haughtily.

"If the cookies weren't so overpriced, dear," her husband began in an irritated tone. "Then perhaps more people would buy them, and we wouldn't have to give them away for free."

"If the prices were any lower," she retorted, "Then we wouldn't be able to afford the silverware we eat on, the carpets beneath our feet, or the flowers you like to buy so much."

"Quite the contrary. If our prices were more affordable, then we would be making _more_ money," her husband countered back logically. "You see, we wouldn't have just one half of the district buying our pastries and cakes—the entire town would be making purchases and contributing to our sales."

"Well, we already have half of the town contributing to our sales, the better half might I add, and that is enough to put a roof over our heads, so I don't see why that's a problem."

_Of course she doesn't see a problem, she lives comfortably in the rich part of town. No one in her family ever had to go down into the mines and risk their lives going to work everyday, trying to put food on the table so that their families won't starve to death._

"All I'm trying to say is that our income would be a lot higher if we catered to both communities," Mr. Mellark maintained sensibly, as he tried to soothe his wife's temper.

"The merchants in this town buy twice as much baked goods as the good-for-nothing bunch in the Seam," his wife snapped back heatedly. "It has _always_ been that way."

_Does she not see me sitting right here?_

"The miners can't afford to buy as much as the merchants, dear," her husband started, once again being the voice of reason.

"Oh, of course they can!" she said brushing off his completely sound explanation. "They get paid a decent wage working in the mines. They just choose to spend it all on booze."

_If the miner's wages were so decent then why doesn't she just pick up a drill and join them? There were no laws against merchants working in the mines, and plenty of females made a living working there too. And we do not spend all our money on booze. Most people in the Seam can barely afford food, much less alcohol. Its obvious she's never actually been into a house in the Seam, because she would see how absolutely ridiculous all her accusations are._

"Mom?" Peeta spoke up suddenly.

"What did I say about interrupting your elders?"

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a quick bow of his head. "May we please be excused?"

"Yes," she answered seeming slightly irritated by her son's attempt to make an input in the family conversation. "Make sure you clean up after yourselves, and then you can do what you like, just don't make a mess."

"Thanks," Peeta replied grabbing my plate along with his and carrying it off to the kitchen. I followed after him.

"I am _so_ sorry about all that," he apologized as he set the dishes in the kitchen sink . "My mom can be really rude sometimes. I just thought she would be try to be more nice around company—she usually is."

_I didn't expect her to be anything less than terrible to me. She was just as awful as I had imagined her to be._

"I think it's pretty obvious that she doesn't like me," I replied.

"It's not you she doesn't like," he reassured me, as he turned on the faucet. He grabbed a sponge and soaked it under the water gushing down from the tap. "She just has this very distorted image of the world. She grew up with the mentality that people's characters are determined by which part of the district they live in. And she's never really had an opportunity to change her mind."

"I don't think I can be the one to change her mind. Honestly, Peeta, I don't know why you brought me here."

"I brought you here to show my mom that she was wrong in judging you," he answered, scrubbing the plates clean. "Hopefully, she'll realize that people from the Seam really aren't as bad as she thinks they are."

"I doubt I did anything to convince her."

"You proved that my mother is capable of having an entire meal with someone from the Seam without automatically dying in the process," he said making me laugh. "So that's good enough for now."

"I think I started a fight," I said, feeling guilty about mentioning the cookies in front of his mom. It set off a huge argument that I felt entirely responsible for.

"It's not your fault. They're always fighting," Peeta insisted. "My dad's habit of giving away cookies is their favorite topic."

"They're always like this?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he responded, as he continued washing the dishes.

"That must be tough," I lamented. I never remembered my parents fighting like that. They always seemed so happy to be together.

"It's not so bad," he said with a lighthearted laugh. "You learn to tune it out."

"Why do they fight so much?"

_It probably had something to do with the fact that his mother was a horrible person, that no one, not even her own family could stand to be around._

"I don't know. I guess that's what happens when you have an arranged marriage," he replied. "It doesn't help that they work together too."

"They had an arranged marriage?"

_That made sense. Why else would someone as nice as Mr. Mellark choose to marry someone as horrible as Peeta's mother? He must have been forced into it._

Peeta nodded in response."Most merchant families do."

_That's strange. In the mining part of town you had the option to marry whoever you liked. I didn't know it was so different for the merchants in town._

"Were you arranged to marry anyone?" I asked, suddenly curious about his past.

_I bet it was Valerie._

"Not unless you count being married on live television to a girl you only met two months ago," he quipped back wryly.

"I meant before you met me."

"Most people don't get married until after they're done with the reapings."

_That definitely wasn't a straight answer. Why was he trying so hard to hide his past from me?_

He rinsed the dishes and laid them out to dry.

"Come on, I'll show you around," he said as he dried his hands on a nearby towel. "The basement is the most interesting part of the house. It hides all the treasures of the Mellark family."

"Treasures?" I asked skeptically. "Our basement is pretty boring Peeta."

"That's because we only started living there. Wait a couple more years and you'll see...it'll be filled with all kinds of really great family memorabilia."

_Family? I really hope that he doesn't intend on starting a family with me. It would be far too cruel to have children in a world as miserable as ours. And after President Snow's last visit it was quite clear that any child of ours would be automatically doomed to suffer a horrible fate._

But he didn't know about the threat Snow made concerning the lives of our prospective children, so I forgave him and immediately followed him down the stairs. Hopefully, it would prove to be just as useful as Haymitch's basement, which was surprisingly camera-free.

"Houses in the seam don't have basements," I said thoughtfully.

_I wish they would then maybe I could have my own safe haven away from all the cameras._

"Really?" Peeta asked in a surprised tone.

"There are mines right beneath the surface," I reminded him.

_Mines that I now knew President Snow could easily blow up._

"Oh yeah," he replied. "I forgot about that."

To my dismay, the second I stepped onto the basement floor, I noticed a camera glaring right at me; and there were many more cameras placed in every corner of the room. And the treasure that he spoke of was nowhere to be found. All I saw were heaps of old junk stashed together.

_I can't believe I'm actually going to be subjected to a pointless tour of the Mellark family's history._

_Just my luck._


	27. Basement Tour

I followed Peeta as he led me into his parents' basement. It was surprisingly clean and well-kept compared to the one in Haymitch's house. The furniture in the room seemed just as spotless as it was upstairs. Fortunately, there were no shards of glass on the floor, so I didn't have to worry about scraping my bare feet as I walked on the warm carpeted floors.

Of course, I still preferred Haymitch's basement to this one because it had the added luxury of not being constantly shadowed by the Capitol's surveillance cameras.

A disproportionate number of cameras were installed in the fairly small abode, peering down at us from the ceiling. In the middle of the room, a small couch and a two arm chairs surrounded a large TV screen that was embedded into a wall. A wooden chest of drawers stood right beneath the elevated television set, and held up several framed photographs of blue eyed, blonde haired faces. The walls were adorned with even more portraits of similar smiling faces, all of different ages.

"Most merchant houses are set up like this," Peeta explained. "We get to have a second TV in the basement, just in case we forget to go upstairs when the Games come on."

He walked over to the wooden cabinet underneath the TV and picked up a framed photo of an old man with a warm smile on his face. He wore a brown clothed cap that hid most of his hair, which was white and paper thin. His eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to mirror Peeta's almost perfectly.

"This was my great-grandfather, Noah Mellark," Peeta said motioning to the portrait he held in his hand. "After the dark ages, he was one of the people that helped rebuild the district into what it is now. He started the bakery that my family now runs."

He put the frame back in its place on the cabinet, and pointed to another portrait that hung from the wall directly behind it. The photograph in the frame depicted an elderly woman with graying hair and similar bright blue eyes.

"That was his sister, my great aunt Gretta. She was a seamstress. She set up the garment shop and passed it down to her children, the Baileys."

"Their older brother, Caleb, was a stone mason. He didn't like taking pictures. He preferred sitting in his dark workshop and building tools instead, " Peeta said. "Eventually he built district twelve's first tool shop. It's now owned by his great-grandchildren, the Jacksons."

"You're related to the Jacksons and the Baileys?" I asked.

"I'm pretty much related to everyone in this part of town," he answered. "Either by blood or through marriage. Half the people in town are my cousins. The other half are the people that married my cousins."

That explained why he seemed to be so popular. He already knew most of the people in town through kinship.

He walked over to another wall that was lined with twice as many frames.

"This wall is dedicated to family members that were reaped," he pronounced grimly. "The Capitol can't send the tributes' bodies back home for a proper burial, so instead they send photographs to all the grieving family members of the tributes, as a token of their gratitude."

My eyes scanned the wall in astonishment. I was stunned at the number of people the Mellark family had lost to the Games. I never realized how much Peeta's family was affected by the reapings.

"My mom's very proud of this section of the room," he continued in a more sarcastic tone. "She calls it the _Hero Wall_."

"I never realized how much you lost to the Games," I said offering my condolences.

"It's no more than what any other family in the districts has lost," he responded. "Most merchant families have a wall like this, commemorating their lost loved ones. Does your family honor their relatives in a similar way?"

I shook my head sheepishly. "My family has lost contact with most of my relatives."

I instantly felt guilty for not keeping in touch with my relatives. Who knows just how many of them had suffered at the hands of the Capitol and I had never so much as cared. Of course, my relatives hadn't made an effort to keep in touch with my family either. My mother's side of the family basically disowned her after she ran away to live with my father in the Seam, and have wanted nothing to do with us since. I had no immediate family from my dad's side, and the distant relatives that remained deliberately chose to stay away due to my mother's unstable condition.

But in a way, I was somewhat fortunate that I hadn't gotten to know them, and that ultimately I had so little to lose. I had distanced myself from the members of my community so much that it didn't affect me personally when I would watch the other children in my district get reaped and sent to their slaughter year after year. The only person I really had to worry about was Prim, and Gale's younger brother who had just come of age a year ago.

Peeta, on the other hand, had so much to lose. He was related to just about everyone in town, and was probably friends with everyone else, so he had to watch someone close to him get reaped and sacrificed in the Games almost every year since his childhood. Perhaps that's why he had developed such a deep hatred for the Games, so much that he didn't even want to take part in the them when he was reaped.

As I observed the portraits on the wall, I suddenly realized I recognized one of the faces.

"Hannah," I said pointing to a picture of a girl with strawberry blonde hair and a pretty smile on her face. She was the butcher's daughter so I knew her from all the times I would trade my game at the butcher shop. "She was your cousin?"

"Yeah. She was," Peeta replied. Something in his face told me he missed her. He probably knew her a lot better than I did.

I glanced over the faces on the wall once again, until my eyes fell on young boy with big green eyes and tousled golden hair.

"He looks so young," I whispered in astonishment.

"He was twelve when he was reaped," Peeta answered. "He was the first from my group of friends."

"I'm sorry." Now that I gazed at his picture, I remembered seeing the boy on television. He got reaped about seven years ago, when the gamemakers still thought it was a good idea to hold the Games in the tundra, where weather conditions often fell below zero. The poor boy froze to death in his sleep.

"That's Abigail," Peeta said pointing to yet another picture on the wall. "She was my great-uncle Caleb's granddaughter. She was reaped during the second quarter quell."

"With Haymitch?"

"Yeah," he replied tersely with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

I didn't know what happened during the second quarter quell, and I didn't want to ask, but something told me it might be the reason why Peeta always seemed to hold such a strong grudge against Haymitch.

"Do you want to see the rest of the basement?" he asked politely.

"Sure," I replied.

He led me to another room, which I noticed wasn't marred by the presence of cameras. Instead this room was covered wall to wall with wires that reached all the way up to the ceiling. These wires connected a series of audio taping devices to one another. Aside, from the wires, the walls were bare, and the room itself was very meticulously organized.

The wall to my left was lined with a series of shelves that held several neatly stacked boxes. In the middle of the room there were two carefully arranged wooden tables that gleamed in the light. The boxes sitting on top of these tables were filled up to the brim with baking supplies. On the right side of the room there was a row of apparently old, no longer functioning ovens and other baking machines that still managed to be in pristine condition despite the fact that they were obviously broken.

Peeta approached one of the ovens that were lined up against the wall.

"This is the oven my grandfather left us when he died," he explained gingerly brushing his fingers over the surface. "It was the oven used by his father, my great grandfather, when he first opened the bakery. It broke about a generation ago, but we still kept it as a way to remember him. He said it held some kind of lucky charm," he continued with a shrug. "My parents believe in that kind of superstitious stuff."

He walked over to another oven that didn't seem quite as archaic as the previous one.

"This is the oven that we used in the bakery until I was about five," he said recounting its history with a glint of amusement in his eye. "Percy thought it would be funny if he put the cat in there. Needless to say, neither the cat nor the oven survived."

We walked over to where the cabinets stood against the back wall of the basement. Peeta opened one of the cabinet doors and I saw that it was filled with dozens of recipe books. He reached up and grabbed the largest one. The worn edges of the book and the dust swarming off the pages as he opened it told me that the book was probably ancient and had been passed down for many generations.

"This is the very first recipe book that my great-grandfather Noah compiled when he opened the bakery," he revealed. "Every time he thought of a new recipe, he would write it down in this book, so he could pass it down to his children when they started working in the bakery. We don't use it anymore because we've been using these recipes for generations, and my dad's got them all memorized by heart now."

The recipe book reminded me somewhat of the book that my mother kept, recording all the different medical uses of herbs. I guess it was common practice for merchant families to write down the most important pieces of knowledge necessary for their craft, so that one day they may pass it down to their children. The coal miners in the seam didn't have any skill that was particular to them, aside from hunting, of course. But that was illegal. Coal mining was taught at school, and then during the training program after your final year of schooling. Hunting was a skill you learned solely by word of mouth, lest someone get a hold of it and try to accuse you of committing a crime.

Peeta opened the door to another cabinet, which I now saw was crammed with smaller boxes.

"This is my soccer gear," he said pulling out a box in front of me and abruptly sliding it back in. "I stopped playing about two years ago."

"These are my brothers' trophies," he explained as he pulled out another box filled with golden statues and trophies. "Patrick has always been good at pretty much everything. He got awards for academics, athletics, sportsmanship, you name it. My second eldest brother, Percy, he got a lot of trophies for wrestling. That's kind of his thing."

He fished out a small medal from underneath the pile of gleaming trophies.

"This is the trophy I got for winning the annual district twelve turkey derby," he said with a jubilant smile on his face.

"Are you serious?" I said barely suppressing a chuckle.

"I was eight and it was honestly my life's greatest achievement at that point," he said. "I was really proud of my turkey."

I laughed and rolled my eyes at him. I realized we had finally made it to the end of the room. I assumed it would be the end of the tour as well. I turned at my heel, getting ready to leave, when I felt his fingers gently brush against mine.

"Wait," he said with his free hand on the knob of a door I hadn't realized was there before. "There's one more room I want to show you."

After we entered, Peeta closed the door behind us. I didn't see the point in doing that, since the audio devices from the other room could easily hear us even with the door closed.

Once I was in the room, I was happy to find that there were no recording devices installed, or at least any that were visible to the naked eye. Unfortunately, I also noticed that there was barely any space to move through the tightly packed room. The space probably served as some sort of storage unit because it was filled up to the ceiling with large boxes and old machinery.

Peeta silently began shifting some of the boxes out of the way, making room for me to follow him as he continued to walk further into the room. We came to another door, but when he opened it, I was sad to see that it was only a small closet which was once again filled completely with a stack of boxes.

Suddenly, Peeta began lifting the boxes one by one and set them down on the floor outside the closet. Once the boxes were all removed, Peeta motioned for me to come into the closet with him and close the door behind me. I was completely bewildered by that point, but I figured I might as well follow his lead, seeing as how it was _his_house.

As soon as I closed the door shut, the closet became pitch black. I couldn't see anything but a streak of light shining in from the crack underneath the wooden door.

Still, my hearing was intact, and I could hear Peeta breathing steadily as he stood only a few inches away from me.

I heard Peeta shuffling for something in his pocket and only moments later I saw that he had lit a match. My eyes welcomed the sight of his familiar face as the fire from the match illuminated the tiny space between us.

"Hold this please," he instructed, handing me the match. I did as he said, and grabbed a hold of his match, wondering what it was for.

To my surprise, Peeta dropped down to his knees and crouched over the floor. I steered the match downward to see what he was doing.

I saw Peeta lifting the rug that covered the floor beneath us. He rolled it up and revealed a small door with a latch in the floorboards. He took out a pin from his pocket, and unfastened the latch. Then he grabbed hold of the metallic handle and pulled it open, setting the door carefully against the closet wall.

I peered into the opening in the ground and saw a set of stairs leading down into a room that was shrouded in darkness.

Peeta leapt into the opening, setting his feet onto a step that was located about a foot beneath the floor. He began making his way down with practiced movements suggesting he had done this many times before.

I was still hesitant about following him. When he was about halfway down, he turned to look up at me.

"Come on," he urged softly as he stretched out his arm and offered me his hand. I still wasn't sure I wanted to follow Peeta down into a dark hole in the ground. But then I realized I was still holding the match, and he would probably need a source of light once he got down there. So I grabbed a hold of his hand and cautiously followed him down the steps.


	28. Hidden Room

The wood beneath my feet creaked softly as I made my way down the stairs and into the dark and mysterious abyss. Once I reached the landing, a blanket of silence filled the room.

I looked around and noticed the compartment was larger than it had appeared to be from above. The details of the room were hard to see in the dim light cast by the match I held in my hand, but I could still make out a hazy outline.

The poor lighting illuminated the edges of a few key pieces of furniture that were crammed together in the tiny room. I could see a small wooden desk sitting against the wall, and a large wooden structure standing in a corner, with several cans surrounding it on the floor.

Peeta asked me for the match, and I automatically complied. Having relinquished my only source of light, I was left standing in the dark.

I heard him shuffle towards the other end of the room, and only a few minutes later I saw a stream of light gushing out from small oil based lamp that sat on the wooden desk. The light from the lamp washed over the room so that now I was able to see it in its entirety.

The desk I had noticed previously had various papers and writing tools scattered across it. The wooden structure to my left was actually an easel that was stocked with blank canvas paper. The cans sitting on the floor nearby contained different colored liquids, most likely paint. The shelves were stocked with even more cans and a wide assortment of tools. Another shelf was lined with books. I scanned the room, taking in all the details with a sense of wonderment.

Behind me, I heard Peeta mount the steps once more and then clasp the door shut and fasten the lock.

"Did you build all this?" I asked once I was sure the trap door above us had been sealed.

"Yeah," he answered climbing back down from the stairs. "It's not much, but it's the only room I know that definitely doesn't have any cameras."

"How do you know that?" I asked skeptically.

"When the Peacekeepers came to install the cameras, they made sure to set up their surveillance equipment in every room in the house. They even had the bathrooms audio tapped. But they didn't bother to check the basement closet—or the floorboards beneath it. So they never found out about this room."

"Is that why you've been trying to get me to come over to your parents' house for the past couple of weeks?"

He nodded. "I thought we could use we could use a quiet place to talk, without the cameras watching us."

"This is perfect," I marveled as I continued taking in my surroundings. I neared the edge of the desk and noticed that the papers stacked on top of it were pencil sketches that illustrated a number of different objects and places, some of which seemed quite familiar to me. But before I could place them, I heard Peeta's voice call my name, and I quickly turned to face him.

"Katniss," he started. "I'm really sorry about everything you had to go through with my mom. I know she can be a real nightmare sometimes—"

"You don't have to keep apologizing," I said, cutting him off.

"Yes, I do," he maintained. "It was my fault. I dragged you down here, knowing that my mom could probably say something—horrible—to you. I just didn't how else to get you down here. It would look suspicious if we came to my parent's home and didn't even sit down for a meal with them."

"I get it," I replied. "We had to put on a show. For the cameras."

_And boy, did his mother put on a show._ I wondered what the Capitol citizens would think of the prejudice District 12 citizens had against each another.

"I just wish my mother would have tried being more civil about it," Peeta continued with a hint of bitterness in his voice. He shook his head resentfully. "She shouldn't have made those remarks about your family or the Seam."

"It's really not a big deal. Her opinion doesn't mean much to me," I insisted with a shrug, trying to make myself believe the words that I uttered were true.

"Nobody else in my family feels that way about you," he reassured me. "You're completely welcome in our home. My mom…she just needs some time to adjust."

_I doubt his mother would ever get used to me._

"You can sit if you like," Peeta motioned to a chair that stood beside the wooden desk.

I took a seat in the chair, and looked around the room, suddenly feeling my doubts reemerge.

"Does anyone else know about this room?" I asked.

"Just my dad," Peeta replied as he found a place to sit on the floor. "But he hasn't told a soul about it—not even my mom knows."

"What does she think we're doing down here?"

"She probably thinks I'm giving you a very detailed tour of our basement," he said flashing a grin, before continuing in a more sardonic tone. "She's very proud of my family's history in the Games."

"She's never gotten suspicious seeing you come down here?"

"No. She usually thinks I'm at school."

I smiled wistfully as I remembered all the times I would miss school in exchange for a few quiet moments in the woods. Nothing could compare to the enormous amount of freedom I felt as I traversed the open wild with nothing but the musical chirping of mockingjays and my own thoughts to keep me company. I treasured the time I had alone in the woods because it brought me back to the days I shared with my father. Most of the time, I wouldn't even tell Gale where I was.

Of course, Gale took school a lot more seriously than I did. He actually planned on working in the mines one day, so it benefited him to learn about coal production. Peeta, on the other hand, didn't have a single reason to stay in school, since no amount of coal mining knowledge could possibly help him in the pastry making business. But what I couldn't understand, was why he would skip school to go to place as closed off and confined as this.

"You would skip school to come _here_?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"You don't think it's kind of…cramped?"

"It is," he conceded with a small laugh. "But there's really nowhere else to go…if you want to be alone."

_Why would he want to be alone? He had everything. A wealthy family, a handful of friends, a perfect girlfriend, and he got along with just about everyone._

"Why would someone like _you_ want to be alone?"

"Someone like me?" he repeated with a grin.

"Someone…who's always surrounded by friends."

The smile on his face fell and he heaved a sigh before he started to explain.

"Sometimes, it gets suffocating being surrounded by so many people," he began. "All of them pressuring you, and expecting you to act a certain way. Every now and then, I just needed to get away from everybody and go to a place where I can get some peace and quiet."

After a long pause, I finally responded in a voice that was barely audible.

"Sometimes I would skip school and go the woods," I whispered. " Just to think."

"You would go to the woods to _think_?" he asked in disbelief. "Isn't it dangerous out there?"

"Not if you know what you're doing," I replied.

"So all that stuff I heard about there being poisonous snakes, wild dogs, and man-eating bears, all that's just rumors?" he asked teasingly.

"Of course not. There are some things you have to watch out for. But once you learn your way around, you discover that it's actually a pretty peaceful and relaxing place. It becomes sort of like a safe haven," I explained, as Peeta eyed me with a look of astonishment. "But the part about the man-eating bears—that's just a rumor. There are no bears. We just say that to keep townies out of the woods."

"Well, it's definitely working. No merchant has even tried crossing the gate since my cousin Gideon came back from the woods with about half a dozen snake bites all over him. He told everybody he got it while throwing a handful of snakes at a bear. We were so young at the time that we all believed him," he said with a chuckle. "Everybody in town has stayed away from the woods since."

All of a sudden a pained expression crossed his face.

"You really looked up to him," I said voicing my thoughts aloud.

"I did," he replied with a nod of his head. "We all did. Growing up, my cousins and I, we were all very close. We would do everything together. And the older ones would always look after the younger ones. And now that I have younger cousins who look up to me, I have a responsibility to look after them—and to protect them."

Suddenly I realized how selfish I had been considering only Prim's life in my bargain with the devil, when in reality Peeta had so much more to lose than I did. If President Snow planned on keeping his promise to only include the relatives of current Victors in the reaping for the Quarter Quell, then Peeta had a much greater chance of losing somebody he loved than I did.

Just by looking at his wall of family portraits I could tell that Peeta's family was so extensive that he must have at least half a dozen relatives that would be eligible to compete in the upcoming Quarter Quell.

If Prim's name was thrown into the reaping bowl with a handful of Peeta's youngest relatives, there was a greater chance that both of the tributes selected to compete would come from Peeta's family rather than mine.


	29. Peeta's Plan

"I want to help you protect your family, Peeta," I stated. "But the only way we can keep everyone safe is if we do what the President wants.

"And he—" I continued hesitantly, "he wants us to start a family."

"Well," Peeta scoffed. "That's not going to happen."

"But," I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"No, that's _not_ what I want."

"Then..." I trailed off searching for the right words. "What do you want from me?"

_Gale had said he wanted to start a family with me. Surely that's what Peeta wanted, too._

Peeta breathed a heavy sigh before answering my question.

"I just want for you to be happy," he said softly, leveling his eyes directly on mine. I searched his face for any hint of insincerity, but couldn't find any.

"I'm not going to be happy if Prim's life is in danger," I countered back firmly.

"Your sister's life has _always_ been in danger," he said with an earnest expression on his face. He stopped for a moment to let out a sigh. "Just living in this district has made her life dangerous."

What he said was painful to hear, yet I knew it was true.

"Your sister got picked in her very first reaping and she had only one slip with her name on it," he continued. "I see my cousins get picked for the games almost every year. The Quarter Quell is not going to change any of that."

"It will," I insisted. Suddenly, I dropped my gaze.

"How?" Peeta asked.

I didn't want to admit that I made a pact with President Snow concerning only Prim's safety. It seemed so selfish now that I looked back on it. But after a long pause, I finally decided it was time to come clean about my actions.

"I made a deal with President Snow. He promised that if I played by his rules, he would release Prim from ever having to participate in a reaping again."

My statement was followed by another long pause as Peeta ruminated over what I just said. Finally he spoke up in a hushed voice.

"How do you know that he'll keep up his end of the deal?"

"I don't," I admitted with a sigh. "I don't trust him at all."

"I don't either," Peeta whispered, giving a sullen shake of his head. "Snow plays by his own rules. He can go back on his word at anytime, and still find a way to throw her into the Games if he wanted to."

"I know," I admitted reluctantly, "but I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to do something—anything—to keep her alive."

"Even if he does keep his promise, and your sister is spared," he said considering the idea for a moment. "The reapings will still go on, and children will continue to _die_."

"The reapings will always go on," I insisted stubbornly. "And there's nothing we can do about it. The most we can do is to make sure that the people we care about don't get into trouble because of _us_."

"So you think we should do it then? We should really start a family?"

"Yes," I answered plainly despite my hesitation.

"You don't think Snow will try to use our children to manipulate us—just like he's using your sister now?"

I sighed in agreement. "You're right, he probably will."

"And then," he continued."When they're old enough—"

"He'll force them to be tributes in the games," I said finishing his sentence. "And make us train them until they've become cold-blooded killers."

"Do you want that to happen?"

"No, I don't," I said furiously shaking my head.

"Neither do I," he adjoined, with a simple shrug.

"Then, what do you suppose we do?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I do know what we need right now is time—time to think of a plan. Until then, we'll just give the public exactly what they want. At our next public appearance, I'll announce that you're pregnant and all of Panem will believe its true."

"You want me to fake a pregnancy?"

"Yeah, it shouldn't be too difficult. We're already faking a marriage—faking a pregnancy can't be too far off."

"It's not that simple, Peeta."

"It really is. Every couple months we'll just tell the public that you had a miscarriage. After a while, they'll have no choice but to believe that you're barren and eventually they'll leave us alone."

"President Snow will never buy it."

"He'll have to," he insisted steadfastly.

"But what if he won't? You _know_ I'm a terrible liar."

"You didn't do such a terrible job in the arena," he spat out scornfully.

I paused for a moment before countering back defensively.

"You're not very hard to fool."

Peeta scoffed at my remark.

"_All _of Panem was fooled," he retorted crossly.

At that point, I no longer knew how to respond, because what he said was absolutely true. Somehow, I had managed to fool the entire nation into thinking I had feelings for Peeta, when I barely even knew him. I still had no idea how that happened. And yet, President Snow, seemed to see directly past my façade.

"I don't think Snow was fooled," I started then stopped again, as I tried to find the right words to describe it. "It's like he can see right through me. He can _tell _when I'm lying."

"In that case, I'll do the talking," he said. Suddenly, an apologetic look came over his face. "I'm sorry for snapping at you before."

"No, you were only telling the truth," I confessed. "I lied to you, and—I used you. I should be the one apologizing." I made sure my eyes caught his before I continued. "I'm sorry."

And I really was. For a long time, I had carried the guilt I felt for exploiting his feelings for me during the games, and now I hoped he could tell how earnest my apology was.

For a couple minutes, he gazed at me intently with his piercing blue eyes, and before long I could tell by the softened expression on his face that he had accepted my apology. Suddenly, a brooding expression took over his face, and seconds later his face lit up with an idea.

"If you're still worried about the fake pregnancy not being believable," he began, "there's a drug from the Capitol that can help us. It mimics the symptoms of a pregnancy pretty well."

"Are there any side effects?"

"There's only one," he responded, as a playful grin formed on his face. "You can't actually get pregnant while on it."

"That's perfect," I replied, flashing back a genuine smile. "Do you know where we can get some?"

"Actually, I do. We can come back here next week, and I'll have it by then."

"Alright," I said, making myself comfortable in my chair. I began scanning the room around me again, and noticed that most of the furniture in the room, including the chair I was sitting on, came from a cherry tree. It was easy to recognize since it had the same grain pattern and almost the same coloring as the wood used to make the table in my mom's kitchen. What made me wonder was how Peeta had managed to come by such an enormous amount of wood.

The only people that had direct access to wood were the hunters from the Seam. The rest of the district had to get their wood shipped in from the Capitol. The Capitol got their wood from District 7, so when people from District 12 would buy lumber they would have to pay double the tax to cover both shipments. Needless to say, it was a lot cheaper just to get the wood from the Seam, but since most Townies were terrified of the Hob, or anything illegal, they usually opted for the other, more expensive choice for buying wood.

"So," Peeta started "Is there anything else you want to talk about, before we go?"

""Where'd you get all this wood?" I asked expressing my sudden curiosity.

"My uncle had some leftover wood from when he renovated his shop," Peeta told me. "He let me use whatever was left of it."

"That was nice of him," I said as I took one last glance around the room. "I like what you did with the place."

"Thanks, it took me months to finish," he said with a proud look on his face. "Well, digging the hole in took up most of the time. The building part was easy."

"We should come back here more often," I suggested. "I hate talking in the house. I feel like I'm always being watched."

"The bedroom is camera-free," he pointed out as he got onto his feet. "And I checked for audio tapping too. There's nothing there."

"Still, I feel like its bugged, somehow," I maintained, getting up out of my chair. "I just don't trust that house."

"Okay, then we won't talk there," he agreed as he walked over to where the lamp stood on the desk and blew out the candle. "If we have anything important to say, we'll just come here."

I felt his fingers reach mine in the dark and gently usher me towards the exit. I let him guide me up the stairs until we reached the top rung of the ladder. I heard his footsteps come to a halt as he unbolted and swung up the trap door above us. His hand was still clasped around mine as he effortlessly led me through the open door and into the dark closet that awaited us.


	30. Bruises

As we walked through town, making our way back to Victor's Village, Peeta began making plans for our walk on the following week.

"Do you want to come back to my parents' house for lunch next Saturday?" he asked.

"Sure," I agreed with a shrug of my shoulders. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be," I said referring to the fairly engaging conversation I had with his father, before quickly remembering the horrible shrew that lived with him. "But your mother—she's just terrible."

"You know, she's actually not as bad as she seems," Peeta assured me.

"She practically chased me out the house with the flowers still in her hands. She didn't agree to keep them until your father intervened. And even then she said she only did it because she didn't want the flowers to die from all the coal pollution in the Seam."

"Ok, you're right, she was pretty terrible today. But she's usually not like that."

"I've seen her at the bakery plenty of times. She was just as cruel today, as she's always been."

"She's strict," he conceded. "But she's only like that because she wants what's best for her family."

"She used to hit you, Peeta," I interjected before I could stop myself.

I hated having to mention it, but that was the one fact about Peeta Mellark that stayed with me, long after our first encounter. The bruise his mother's blow left on his face remained imprinted in my memory for years to come, even after the day he handed me the two singed loaves of bread in the pouring rain. Although I never let him know it, what I saw that day made me worry about his home situation ever since.

Peeta looked at me with a surprised expression on his face.

"She didn't hit me," he insisted with a stubborn shake of his head.

"Yes, she did," I stated more firmly, not understanding why Peeta was denying what was so obvious.

"She hit my brother sometimes," he said, darting his gaze downward, "but she never hit me."

"I _saw_ her hit you, Peeta."

"When?" he asked incredulously, turning his gaze up to meet mine.

"The day when you gave me the bread," I explained gently. "I was looking through your window and I saw her hit you right after you burned the bread."

"That's funny," he said brushing off my admission with a simple shrug. "I don't even remember that."

"How do you not remember?" I asked in disbelief. "You came out of your house with a blister the size of a _fist_ etched onto your face."

He hesitated for a moment before finally pretending to recall the incident. "Oh, yeah, you mean that," he scratched his head nervously. "That, uh, that does _not_count as hitting."

"If that's not hitting, then what is it?" I asked.

"It's just a disciplining method," he said with a shrug. "All parents do that."

"No they don't," I replied with a worried expression on my face.

"Sure, they do," he insisted, with a smile. "Your mother never hit the back of your hand with a wooden spoon when she was teaching you how to bake?"

"No."

"Well, then _you_ were very spoiled," he scoffed teasingly.

"It's not normal for parents to beat up their children like that," I continued on a more serious note.

"Who said my mother would beat me?" Peeta yelled defensively.

"You would come to school with bruises all over your face, your arms, your legs," I replied. "That's not normal, Peeta."

"You think my _mom_ did that?" he asked in astonishment. "No," he said shaking his head stubbornly. "No. That's all my brothers' handiwork. We used to get into a lot of fights over the years."

"The blister I saw on your face that day definitely left a bruise," I maintained. "And I _know_ it wasn't one of your brothers, because I _saw_ your mother do it."

He looked at me with a bewildered look on his face that was meant to mask the truth. "Are you sure?"

"I know what I saw," I confirmed steadfastly.

He turned his face away from me, and shoved his hands uncomfortably into his pockets.

"Honestly," he maintained, deliberately setting his gaze on the ground. "I don't really remember much of it."

"I do," I stated with unwavering conviction. "I remember you having a bruise in the very same spot the next day at school."

He lifted his head and searched my face ardently.

"I can't believe you remember that," he said in a tone of utter astonishment. A confused expression came over his face as he mumbled, "That was so long ago."

_How could I forget? It was because of me that he received that terrible blow from his mother._

"It was hard to forget," I responded quietly. "You had a new bruise almost every other week."

"You noticed that?" he asked incredulously, eyeing me with a curious glance.

"I'm sure everyone at school noticed," I shrugged, trying to drive the conversation away from me. "Your bruises were pretty bad." I noticed that we were nearing the entrance to our house in the Victor's Village, so I readied my keys as we walked down the path towards the door.

"Everybody on the soccer team got bruised from time to time, so I never expected anyone to notice," he explained with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"The bruises you had were different," I said, plugging my key into its respective keyhole and twisting it. "They weren't the type you'd get just grazing against the grass."

"I never thought that anyone would pay attention long enough to notice," he admitted, finally letting down his guard. All of sudden he locked his brilliant blue eyes on mine and added, "Least of all you."

At this moment, I instantly broke my gaze. Instead I tried to focus all my attention on the creaking noise the door made as it opened up in front of me.

"I'm going to bed," I announced abruptly.

I darted into the house and made my way upstairs before he could say another word.


	31. Confession

I rushed into my room as fast as I could, desperate to get away from my confrontation with Peeta before I revealed too much.

The truth is that I_ had_ noticed Peeta. How could I not? After the day he gave me the bread, I couldn't stop thinking about him—and trying to decipher _why _he had been so kind to me.

Peeta hadn't known me yet, but he showed me more kindness than anyone I had ever known.

Following my father's death, no one from the Seam dared to approach my family, not even to show a gesture of kinship or to offer a helping hand.

They considered my mother a bad omen, blaming her for the mining accident which took so many workers' lives.

They said that she should have never moved away from her home in the merchant side of town because doing so only stirred up the natural order of the district and ultimately caused bad things to happen in the Seam.

So they stayed away from us, as if there was some kind of curse plaguing our household that could easily contaminate their lives if they showed even the slightest bit of compassion towards our family.

My mother quickly spiraled into a state of depression which crippled her abilities to heal, and made it difficult for her to provide for our family. This was only worsened by the coal miners' refusal to go near our house, even when they required medical attention, for fear of being cursed.

They only came to seek medical attention when they desperately needed it, in emergency situations when their loved ones were practically on the brink of death.

Otherwise, they would keep their distance from us, and when they saw us on the streets they would make nasty remarks warning us to leave.

Slowly but surely, my mother's business dwindled and it fell on just me to provide food for my family.

So I tried to do what any other scrawny, underfed, and hopeless twelve year old would do—I went to the rich part of town and I begged.

Unfortunately, the attitude among the merchants in town was even more dismal, considering how much they hated beggars from the Seam.

I spent countless hours trudging through the pouring rain, rummaging through garbage pails, waiting for someone to take pity on me and throw some scraps of food my way. But no one did.

Instead, they just shooed me away from their homes, as if I were some sort of stray animal threatening to destroy the happiness of their perfect lives.

Even the doctor's family screamed at me to get off their property, despite the fact that they were my mother's closest relatives.

I suppose at that point they could hardly distinguish me from every other starving, raggedy girl from the Seam.

But Peeta, he was different.

He wasn't like the greedy Merchants who selfishly hoarded all their wealth without a glance of concern for the people starving and dying around them. He wasn't like the judgmental bunch in the Seam that threw disapproving glances my way every time they set eyes on me. He wasn't like my family, on both sides, that revoked my family's kinship once they felt it no longer benefited them.

He wasn't like the Capitol that took no notice of the suffering felt by the poorest members of our district, and instead amplified this feeling of misery by subjecting our children to a sordid game that would surely diminish our hope for the future all the more.

When it felt like_ all_ the hope in my world had gone, _Peeta_ had been my ray of light illuminating my path down what seemed like a dismal and dreary future.

His single act of kindness broke the pattern of neglect I had grown so accustomed to.

Unlike everyone else I had encountered in my life, Peeta actually went _out of his way_ to help me.

Not only did he bother to give me food, but the loaves of bread he gave me were the expensive kind—definitely more than my family could ever afford. That was a far more generous offer than the measly scraps of food I had spent days begging for.

But no good deed goes unpunished, and his act of kindness earned him a beating at his mother's hand—which I felt entirely responsible for.

Yet something told me that he knew what was to be expected after burning those two loaves of bread. Still, he risked receiving this brutal punishment just to help me.

After all the times my pleas for help were refused, by my own community, by my own _family_, I found it odd that someone I had never met before, would risk so much for me.

And he never, _ever_ asked for anything in return.

For days I wondered _why_ he had been so kind to me, but I couldn't comprehend the intentions behind his actions.

Despite how utterly confused I was, I didn't _dare_ approach him.

I didn't want to embarrass him.

I assumed that he'd be _mortified_ if he were caught talking to a girl from the Seam. I also didn't want to admit that I needed the help of a merchant to keep my family afloat.

Ever since my mother's family threw me off their lawn I vowed that I would never turn to a merchant for help. So I kept my distance from him and pretended like nothing ever happened.

But I couldn't forget that it _did_ happen. And just like that, Peeta Mellark had caught my attention.

From that day on, I couldn't help but notice him.


	32. The Vow

That year Peeta and I participated in our very first reaping.

After everyone had gathered in the district square, the anxiety among the crowd grew tremendously as the time for selecting tributes grew near and everyone wished for the safety of their friends and loved ones.

But I didn't have anyone to wish for.

The cousins I used to play with as a child distanced themselves from me just as soon as my father had passed, and I barely spoke to anyone in school anymore.

I hadn't met Gale yet, and Prim was much too young to participate in the Games. So I had no one to wish for, and I had no one to worry about.

But when they got around to picking a name from the boys' reaping ball, I suddenly found myself wishing with all my might that the slip caught by Effie Trinket's long embellished Capitol nails wouldn't bear the name Peeta Mellark. For at that time, Peeta, the boy with the bread, was the only person I knew whose name was in danger of being called by Effie's deceptively joyful yet condemning tone.

For a split second, I hoped that the boy who had once been so kind to me would be spared from a life of certain death and misery.

He didn't deserve to be reaped. Out of everyone else in the district, he alone chose to act on compassion rather than greed and self-preservation when he decided to go against his own interests and help someone that was in desperate need of salvation.

I held my breath in as the selection was made, and breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that the name called hadn't been his.

Immediately after the moment had passed, I silently reproached myself for falling under the pretense that I had grown a connection to someone I hardly even knew.

Someone who probably didn't even care or think twice about me.

Why would he, when he had so many friends on the other side of town to occupy his time?

It was because of this that I knew there was no use to even consider him a friend.

But there was something curious about him that involuntarily kept my attention.

Every now and then, when I'd grow bored of staring outside the classroom window, envisioning my fantastical escape into the woods, my gaze would drift to where Peeta sat in the back of the class, surrounded by all his friends.

I don't know why my eyes were drawn to him; perhaps it was because I still wanted so desperately to understand why he gave me those two loaves of bread. Sometimes, I'd catch him staring back at me, and as soon as my eyes found his, he would automatically avert his gaze and turn away.

I couldn't fathom why he would look at me like that, but I assumed it must have been out of pity for the starving, despondent girl he saw sitting perched in front of his house, wallowing in the rain with the pigs.

The last thing I needed was pity—from a well off merchant boy at that. Just the thought of him pitying me was enough incite a rage in me so strong I'd scowl every time I caught his eyes on me again.

But despite my outwardly cold demeanor, I still held some interest for the boy with the bread, so I watched him every now and then, hoping to snag a clue as to why he had been so nice to me.

I noticed that the same generosity he showed me earned him the friendship and respect of nearly everyone at school. He was friends with almost every merchant, and he even got along with some classmates from the Seam. He always seemed to be in a good mood, and seemed to practically draw people towards him.

But what I noticed more than anything else was the series of bruises adorned on his face arms, and legs. Sometimes I'd overhear him telling his friends that they were battle scars from a particularly engaging game of soccer. Which seemed like a likely cause, seeing as how he was one of the star players on our soccer team.

But I knew better than that.

Witnessing what I did that day in the rain, I knew that the battle scars he spoke so highly of were really marks of pain inflicted on him by his cruel, heartless mother.

I became worried for him. I didn't know him well enough to say anything about it, though. And I didn't want to know him.

However, things seemed to escalate for him when he turned fourteen.

It had been around the time school started up again in the fall.

I noticed that he was in one of my classes—again. Just as he had been for the past two years.

But all of a sudden, only a week after school had started, he stopped coming in to class.

At first, I thought he must have been placed in the class by mistake and immediately switched out to fix the error.

I felt somewhat unsettled by the change, not seeing the only familiar face I had come to recognize in class, but then I reminded myself that I didn't need a distraction.

Soon, however, I realized that he wasn't appearing at school at all. I didn't see glimpses of him in the halls talking with his friends, or playing soccer in the front yard of the school.

I did see him at the bakery sometimes, but he seemed so sullen and distraught, with heavy, dark circles under his eyes, barely looking at me when making transactions.

I started getting worried that his absence in school was caused by something that had happened in his family. Had his mother forced him to drop out of school in order to work more hours at the bakery? Or had his mother's beatings finally taken a toll on him?

Maybe his family situation was a lot worse than I'd thought.

Whatever the case was, I didn't see him much during those months, since he spent most of his time working at the bakery, and I spent my time hunting and feeding my family. Whenever I had a trade to make in the bakery it was either with his father or his brothers.

After a couple months had passed, he returned to school and joined the wrestling team. He didn't spend as much time with his friends as he used to, and he barely engaged in games of soccer anymore. He seemed to prefer spending time with his girlfriend instead. When he wasn't at school, he was hurrying off to work at the bakery. He seemed to be getting back to normal. He even entered the district's annual wrestling competition and placed second rank after his brother.

After that, he slowly began assimilating back into the school's general culture and returning to his usual circle of friends.

Soon after that, we were both reaped in the Games.

So the answer to Peeta's question is _yes_, I did notice him. He was the first person to show me true kindness and this resounded with me so much that I inadvertently kept an eye on him throughout the years. But despite the attention I paid to him, I knew I couldn't be friends with him.

I couldn't get close to _anyone_ for that matter. Gale was an exception, because our friendship was based solely on necessity, and we needed one another to survive. But Peeta—I didn't _need_ a rich Townie to survive.

There was no point in getting to know him better, because experience taught me that forming close bonds with people would only hurt you in the long run.

I couldn't fathom going through the pain of loss all over again.

Not after my father was stolen away from me, with such cruelty, leaving a gaping hole forever etched into my heart.

With that one stroke of violence the Capitol took not only my father but also my mother.

My mother's warm embrace was severed from my outstretched grasp just as soon as my father had passed away, when she spiraled into her realm of despair, damaged by her love for him.

After my father's death, I witnessed just how much being in love had crippled my mother both mentally and physically.

She became so depressed that she could no longer function in her daily life.

She could no longer care for her children.

Eventually, I learned that love has the power to destroy you.

And from then on, I vowed that I would _never_ fall in love.


	33. The Bed

I thought about all this as I lay in bed trying to catch some sleep. But, soon, I realized it was an empty endeavor since it was much too early for sleep. Instead I gazed up at my surroundings.

The walls were lined with a series of shelves that held an exuberant amount of neatly folded clothes and an endless number of shoes. The arsenal of apparel didn't end there. There were rows and rows of hangers that held an even larger assortment of clothes, from frilly dresses to elegant gowns, all made with the clear intention that they be worn to Capitol events. I wore them solely out of respect for Cinna, who had spent countless hours creating these custom made designs for me and had given them to me as a wedding present.

Still, when the cameras disappeared, the only articles of clothing I really needed were my dad's old hunting jacket, and my sturdy pair of hunting boots, which remained at my bed at all times.

But the bed I was lying on hadn't always been there.

When Peeta and I first came to inspect the house with Effie acting as our tour guide, she introduced the space as simply a _dressing room_. Peeta and I were initially astonished by the enormous space designated solely for the purpose of storing clothes and shoes. The room was roughly half the size of my mother's entire house in the seam. The bedroom was nearly twice the size of that—and yet, it only housed a single bed.

This posed somewhat of a problem.

In the days immediately following our wedding, I no longer felt comfortable sharing a bed with Peeta. To do so would only heighten whatever feelings we had for each other, and I didn't want to lead Peeta on—at least not any more than I had done so already.

And I certainly didn't wish to burden him with the task of having to coax me out of every single nightmare I had for the rest of my life. Nor could I place myself in such a vulnerable position.

So I decided that if we were ever to live together, I would sleep on the couch.

There was a couch in the den that was hidden away from the cameras. It wasn't too bad. In fact, it was quite luxurious. It was definitely bigger than the bed I slept on in the Seam. And it was adorned with a bevy of pillows that were just as soft as dandelion heads in the spring.

As soon as I got home on my wedding night, I made a bee-line for the dressing room, my mind already set on where I'd be sleeping that night. I wanted nothing more than to get out of my suffocatingly intricate dress as soon as possible. But the design was so complicated that by the time I came downstairs, I saw that Peeta had already changed out of his white wedding attire and had fallen asleep on the couch.

I trotted upstairs with a small sense of defeat. A faint voice in my head reminded me I shouldn't let Peeta sleep on the couch considering the severe condition of his leg. I tried to push the thought from my mind, but the feeling of guilt continued to nag me throughout the night.

The next day, I made sure I fell asleep on the couch before Peeta returned home from the bakery. I continued to do so until eventually it became part of our daily routine—I would take the couch, and he would take the bed. I liked the system we created because it meant that whenever Peeta was at home, I was fast asleep, and I never really had to talk to him. Except of course, on Saturdays when we took our long walks together.

One morning, when I came into the dressing room to throw on a fresh set of clothes after taking a quick shower, I noticed there was something different about the room. I glanced over the room once more and noticed there was a bed sitting right in the middle of it.

I had no idea where it came from or how it got there, but I assumed it must have been put there for me. Perhaps Peeta had told Effie or Haymitch of our living situation and one of them had gotten a new bed shipped in from the Capitol.

I was grateful that I could now sleep in a more convenient location, right in the middle of the dressing room where I housed all of my clothes because to be quite honest, running up and down the stairs every morning was getting to be a bit tiresome.

Still, as grateful as I was, I was slightly angry at Peeta for not mentioning anything to me before essentially letting everyone know the sorry state of our marriage.

Ordering a new bed so soon after moving into a newlyweds' home sent the wrong message, and I knew it would get us into trouble if anybody in the Capitol found out.

Just as I suspected, President Snow paid me a visit only days later. I was sure it was the installment of the new bed that had ushered the President in all the way from the Capitol, and tipped him off that perhaps everything wasn't as perfect as it should be between Panem's two lovebirds.

Of course, Snow would be looking for any hint of deception to uncover whether or not our stunt in the arena was all just a sham meant to fool him. And he had already made it clear that he did _not_ like being made to look like a fool.

In my state of deep contemplation I began staring at the bed that had caused all this trouble. It was because of this extra bed that the President had caught wind of the true state of my marriage to Peeta, and made that awful ultimatum that would put Prim's life in danger, as well as so many others in my district, if I did not comply with his demands.

Now the choice I faced was to do the one thing I dreaded most of all, to bear children in order to prove the sincerity of my marriage to Peeta, or to start a rebellion, that would undoubtedly put everything in the balance at risk.

My eyes carefully followed the grain patterns of the wood that buttressed my bed as I considered the only options I had left.

Suddenly, I became aware that the wood used to build my bed originated from a cherry tree.

I found this odd because most of the furniture brought in from the Capitol was made of more expensive qualities of wood. Cherry trees were of the cheapest kind. The only people who used Cherry wood to build their furniture were people from the Seam, who got the material directly from the woods.

But if the Capitol didn't build the bed then who did?

The first person I thought of was Gale. He had direct access to the woods, and was definitely crazy enough to build me a separate bed so that I didn't have to share one with Peeta.

But then I remembered that Gale hardly ever cut down wood from trees, since there were others in the Seam who specialized in that. The few times he did, it was never from a Cherry tree. He always complained it wasn't sturdy enough and used other species of wood instead.

Besides, I couldn't imagine Gale sneaking into my home and dragging a whole pile of wood with him into the Victor's Village. That would definitely attract attention, and Gale was smart enough to avoid doing something as foolish as that.

Then, it dawned on me, that perhaps Peeta hadn't told Haymitch and Effie to order the bed from the Capitol.

Maybe, he had built it entirely on his own.

He had proven his ability to shape wood into furniture when he showed me the room he had built under his mother's basement. The wood he used to make his furniture was cherry, the same type of wood used to make this bed. So it was entirely possible that he had built the bed and placed it there himself.

If that was true, then he hadn't told Effie or Haymitch about our living arrangements. And if _that_ was true, then how in the world did President Snow find out about the extra bed?

As I searched for an answer to this, I realized there was no use in pondering over how I got myself into this situation. Instead it would be more productive if I worked on a way to get myself _out_ of it.

Instantly I got out of my bed and walked over to my dresser. I opened the drawer where the book of laws the president had given to me now lay hidden.

After I retrieved the book, I sat back down on the bed, and opened the heavy book on my lap. My eyes quickly scanned over the table of contents until I found the one section that truly terrified me—it read _Poaching on Capitol Grounds_. Once more, I turned to page 137, where I found a never-ending list of crimes that were associated with hunting and the horrible consequences that followed each and every one of them. I had to warn Gale.

I hadn't seen Gale for the past three weeks, but I knew he was still hunting. He had been avoiding our meeting spot ever since my wedding took place, but every time I came across a snare in the woods, I knew it was his.

He had to know the dire consequences that would follow if he continued to hunt. Not only to himself but to others around him. President Snow revealed that there would be more mining "accidents" if the rules weren't strictly adhered to. And with all the extra Peacekeepers in town, it wouldn't be long before Gale was caught. His transgression could possibly cost the lives of many others.

I decided that I would go into the woods on the following day. Sunday was Gale's only day off from working in the mines, so I knew he would be in the woods.

I knew there was no use in waiting for him by our old meeting spot, but I promised myself I would track him down if I had to—he had to know what was at stake.

All of a sudden, I heard footsteps coming from the other room. The door to my room was opened a few moments later, and I saw Peeta's head peek in through the doorway.

"Hey. Are you really going to bed now?" he asked. "It's kind of early."

"Not yet," I replied. He was right, it was a bit early; it was only half past six.

"I thought maybe we can make some dinner," he proposed hesitantly as he entered my room. "I just finished putting a chicken in the oven. Do you want to help me make the salad?"

I thought about his proposal for a minute. My stomach growled hungrily, and it was around dinnertime. But I'd rather make my own meals.

"I'm a bit busy right now," I replied, betraying the hunger I truly felt.

"Oh, right," he said with a casual nod of his head, but the disappointment in his voice was pretty clear. He hesitated for a second before glancing at the book in my hands, "What are you reading?"

I still hadn't told him about the book President Snow had given me weeks ago. I assumed there would be no point in doing so, since Peeta probably never broke any rules. But now that we had created a plan to fool the government and potentially use some illegal drugs, I decided it would probably be best if he knew the consequences that would follow if we really did go through with the plan.

"Laws of Conduct in Panem," I said announcing the title of the book that reeked of blood and roses. "President Snow left it here when he came by the house."

The look on his face showed that he was surprised by this new information and slightly hurt that he had been kept in the dark for so long. I immediately braced myself, expecting him to react in anger, as I knew I certainly would if the roles were reversed. But to my surprise, he didn't.

"I wondered what smelled so bad," he said lightly, instantly producing a smile on my face. "Can I take a look at it?"

"Sure," I replied. I scooted over, to make room for him on my bed. Once he was seated, I moved the book over to him, so he could see where I was reading. His face carefully scanned the page I was on.

As soon as his eyes reached the bottom of the page, his face automatically fell.

I knew an explanation wasn't necessary. He understood what the implications were.

"Are you going to tell him?" he muttered.

"Tomorrow," I confirmed.

Peeta took the book in his hands, and turned to the index. He shifted through the pages until he reached a page marked "Unlicensed Purchase and Distribution of Drugs." We both surveyed the page that catalogued the long list of punishments that awaited us if we were to go through with our plan. Neither of us said anything in response, so I suppose that meant we both agreed that it had to be done.

Then, Peeta thumbed through the pages once more until he reached a page labeled "The Use and Trade of Unlawful Firearms," He examined the page for while, reading down the list of prohibitions relating to firearms, after which he quickly turned to another page that read "Bribery of Government Officials."

I had no idea why he had turned to these last two sections, or what he was hinting at by doing so, but I didn't dare say a word. Not in our house which could easily be bugged. I would have to wait until our next meeting at his parents' house to find out exactly what he was planning.

I gently took the book from his hands and sifted through the pages, until I reached a section marked, "Treason," after which, I handed him back the book.

Peeta turned to look at me with a worried look imprinted on his face.

After a few long moments of staring into his deep blue eyes, trying to decipher what he was thinking, I realized that our hands had been touching. My first impulse told me to pull my hand away from his, as quickly as possible.

But I didn't.

I left my hand right where it was.

"Did you build this bed?" I asked in a hushed voice.

He nodded his head in reply as a sheepish smile took over his face. "I kind of hoped you wouldn't notice. I tried polishing the wood so it wouldn't look so cheap, but cherry wood was all I had."

"I like cherry," I replied. "It reminds me of home."

"Really?" He looked up at me with an astonished look on his face that clearly said he didn't expect me to be so appreciative of his gift.

"My father used cherry wood to build almost everything in my house. He said it was worth a lot more than people gave it credit for."

"He was right," Peeta insisted, before adding, "Sometimes people are too quick to judge."

"They are," I murmured back.

_And maybe I had been too quick to judge him._

"Thank you," I whispered earnestly.

"It was the least I could do," he said with a humble shrug of his shoulders. "We couldn't have you sleeping on the couch every night."

I closed the book that lay between us, and began climbing out of bed.

"How about we go downstairs, and I'll help you make that salad?" I suggested, throwing a genuine smile his way.

"I'd like that," he replied.

Together, we went downstairs and finished preparing for dinner.


	34. Apple Pie

"What do we need to make a salad?" Peeta's question resounded as he opened the refrigerator door.

I had to take a minute to think about that. My sister usually made the salads. I skinned and cooked the meat. Sometimes I'd bring home plants that I knew she liked to use, but I doubt the fridge in our Victor's mansion had any of the herbs I usually collected from the forest.

"What do we have?"

"Tomatoes, onions, lettuce, radish, a lemon, and apples. We have a lot of apples."

"I guess we can just use all of that," I replied with a small shrug.

"Even the apples?" he asked as he took all the products out of the fridge.

"No, we don't need that," I shook my head.

I grabbed a cutting board and a knife, and got set on cutting up the vegetables for the salad.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Peeta sit on the other side of the counter and start peeling apples.

"We don't need apples for the salad," I reminded him.

"We need apples for apple pie," he pointed out.

"You're making a pie?"

"_We're_ making a pie," he corrected me with a covert grin.

"I don't make pies," I said, automatically declining his request.

"I'll teach you," Peeta insisted giving a smile that was too sweet to resist.

I lowered my gaze and focused on the onions I was cutting.

"We don't have time to make a pie right now," I protested.

"Sure we do," Peeta insisted as he grabbed a cutting board of his own and started working on the apples. "It's easy. I'll show you."

"Don't you need the dough to cool down for at least a couple hours?" I pointed out.

"I thought you said you don't make pies?" Peeta eyed me with a look of mock suspicion.

"I've never made a pie before. But my mom used to," I explained. "A long time ago."

"Not anymore?" he asked.

"No," I answered. "Not since…"

I don't know if it was the onions I was cutting, or simply the harshness of the memory that caused my eyes to well up.

Thinking of my father never brought tears to my eyes. It was the thought of losing my mother that did it.

"It's really hard to lose someone so special. The world just isn't the same without them anymore," I heard him mumble almost to himself.

I was surprised by his response. Surprised at how much he _understood_. Surprised at how much his words had the ability to heal me, without so much as a touch or a glance in my direction.

I instantly looked up at him and saw that he was back to cutting the apples on his cutting board. I took a second to study him; glancing over the contours of his face, the fullness of his lips, the intensity of his gaze and wondering how it is he_ always_ knew the right thing to say.

I quickly averted my gaze before he caught me staring, and went back to working on the salad in front of me.

I emptied the sliced onions into the salad bowl and started cutting the radish.

"Pass me the lemon?" he asked after a few moments had passed.

I silently passed him the lemon, instantly noting the warmth of his fingers as they briefly brushed past mine.

I diverted my attention back to my salad, tossing the final few vegetables into the bowl. I mixed the salad, and added what was left of the lemon into the bowl.

_That seems good enough._

I walked over to where Peeta stood working on his pie.

"What comes next?" I asked curiously.

"After the lemon juice, you add a bit of flour," Peeta said pouring in a small amount from the bag. "And then you add some cinnamon, nutmeg, and brown sugar."

"How much of each?"

"However much you like," he answered handing me the cinnamon container.

I added in the cinnamon, as well as the brown sugar and nutmeg.

"Now, we need the dough," he continued as he turned to retrieve it from behind him.

"Which will take hours to make," I reminded him.

"Then it's a good thing I brought some home from the bakery," he replied with a cheeky grin.

He pulled off the covering over a large bowl, revealing a heap of dough that had already been prepared.

"You planned all this didn't you?"

"I always plan on having spare dough around the house," Peeta responded with a casual shrug of his shoulders. He prepared a space on the counter for kneading dough.

"Alright, so let's see how much you _really_ know about kneading dough—can you guess what the first step is?" he asked raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Of course," I answered practically rolling my eyes at the simplicity of his question. "You spread some flour on the surface of the table," I said, instantly reaching for the bag of flour.

"Hey, slow down," he laughed, as his fingers gently gripped my hand.

"First you might want to put an apron on," he warned teasingly. "Or you might dirty those custom made clothes of yours."

I looked down at my attire and remembered that I still hadn't changed out of the clothes I had worn to his mother's house. He was right, I did need an apron. Cinna probably spent all day sewing in every burgundy strand on the sweater I wore. I didn't want to dirty something he had worked so hard on.

Peeta handed me an apron. I pulled the strands of the apron around my waist and tied them together. I looked up at Peeta to let him know I was ready.

"Wait," he chuckled amusingly. "You forgot one more knot," he said as he walked over to me.

He carefully brushed aside my braid and knotted together the remaining strands around the nape of my neck. "There," he whispered softly. I could feel warmth of his fingers brush past my skin as he gently repositioned my braid. When he was done he rejoined me at the counter.

"Now, what were you going to do with that bag of flour?" he asked.

I took a handful of flour from the bag and spread it across the table.

"Good. So in the next step, you take about half the dough, like this, and you form it into a ball," he instructed as he kneaded the dough in his hands.

"What's this for?" I asked motioning to the bowl, which held the remainder of the dough.

"That's for the crust," he explained. "You can roll that part yourself—if you don't mind get your hands a little dirty."

_Me? Being scared of getting my hands a little dirty? _I cocked an eyebrow at him and accepted his challenge.

I picked up the dough and rolled it against the countertop until it was formed into a perfectly round ball.

"Hey, you're doing a pretty good job," he commented. "Maybe if I convince my dad, he'll let you work in the bakery with me."

I rolled my eyes and smiled lightly to myself.

"Okay, now, we roll the dough," he resumed, immediately finding a pair of rolling pins and handing me one of them.

He placed his slab of dough on the counter and within minutes he had transformed it into a perfectly flattened disk.

I looked tentatively at the ball of dough I had been rolling out, and noticed it was oddly misshapen compared to his.

"You have to even out the ends," Peeta pointed out.

I tried taking his advice and rolled out the edges. Except they just rolled back to their original disoriented position. I stared ominously at the noncompliant slab of dough in front of me.

"Here, let me show you how," he offered stepping in towards me to examine my work more closely.

"Alright, first, you're not even holding the rolling pin right," he said, automatically identifying the problem.

"You want to hold it more towards the ends," he recommended as he gently repositioned my fingers.

"That way you can get a more steady grip on your rolling pin," he explained in a hushed voice.

He gripped the ends of the rolling pin, placing his fingers directly above of mine.

"Then when you roll it, " he continued softly as he rolled the pin across the length of the dough. "The weight of your fingers is more evenly distributed."

I could feel the coarseness of his fingers press down against my own, as he guided my fingers in their rhythmic dance. _Up, down. Up, then down again._Our fingers travelled in perfect unison as they completed each stroke, the pin making a soft grazing sound as it rolled down the hard, wooden surface. In minutes, the unwieldy slab was transformed into a flawless circle of dough.

"See," he whispered softly into my ear. "You did it."

After a moment, he released my fingers from his grasp and backed away slightly to observe my work from afar. He tilted his head slightly to inspect the piece of dough on the table. It looked identical to the one right beside it. Then a proud grin formed on his face.

"I think we're ready to open our own bakery now," he proposed light-heartedly. "My parents will be so mad when they see the competition."

I laughed just at the thought of his mother's face, if we really did open up a bakery to compete with theirs.

"But before we do that," I recommended. "We should probably finish up the pie first."

"Yeah, that _would_ be a good idea," Peeta agreed before doling out the rest of the recipe. "You want to take the bottom layer and place it on the pan like this," he said, illustrating each step as he went along.

"And then you just pour in the apple mixture," he instructed as I picked up the bowl and poured all its contents into the pan.

"You put the second crust on top," he said. "And that's when the fun begins."

"There's a fun part to this?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, there's a fun part," Peeta complied with a laugh.

"Good, because I'm starting to get bored," I said teasingly.

"Don't worry, you'll be bursting with excitement after this," he replied. "Watch how I do it. You pinch the edges like this," he explained, moving his fingers brusquely against the dough.

I followed his lead, albeit more slowly, until we were done and the crust was entirely covered in the pattern.

After we finished, Peeta handed me a knife, and ceremoniously asked me to do him the honor of poking three holes into the top layer of the crust.

I took the knife and pretended to appreciate the gravity of his request as I completed the task.

"And we're done," Peeta concluded after he placed the pie into the oven. "See? There's a good reason why people say some things are as _easy as pie_."

I nodded my head and smiled in agreement. "It's a lot simpler than I thought."

In fact, I was surprised at just how simple it was. Not only making the pie, but spending time with Peeta.

He made it seem like the world wasn't falling apart all around us. Like we hadn't met in a brutal game where our lives were pitted against one another. Like we weren't fighting for survival on a daily basis.

He made me feel like I was a kid again. Before the accident, when my mom was so full of life. I loved spending time with her, doing things like learning how to bake. Life back then was so happy and carefree. I didn't have to worry about hunting or providing for my family. I could just enjoy having fun moments like these with my family. My life was so simple back then.

"The chicken's ready," Peeta announced, stirring me from my thoughts. He gave me a warm smile. "Come on, let's go eat."


	35. Wine Cellar

After we finished eating the chicken, and the pie had cooled down a bit, I suggested that we take the pie over to Haymitch's house.

Peeta was a little reluctant at first, making numerous excuses for why we shouldn't go. But when I asserted I would be going regardless of whether or not he came along, he finally agreed to accompany me.

Though I couldn't explain this in the kitchen considering the number of cameras watching us, my reasons for going to Haymitch's house weren't entirely arbitrary.

It had been over a week since Haymitch revealed to me that the wine cellar in his basement was completely void of any cameras, and it was time for Peeta to know as well.

He had shown me the safe haven he had built under his mother's home, a place where we could talk without the threat of being overheard by the Capitol, so I wanted to return the favor. I wanted him to know that we had a second option if we ever wished to talk freely, away from the prying eye of the cameras that infested our home.

But most of all, I wanted to let Haymitch know about the plan we created, so that he could weigh in on whether or not he thought it was a good idea.

So after the clock struck half past eight, I dragged Peeta across the Victor's Village, under the pretense of sharing my first homemade apple pie with our drunken neighbor.

I rang the doorbell to his mansion, just as soon as we had reached the door. Together we waited in the dark, eager to hear a noise somewhat reminiscent of life-like movement from inside the cold, dreary manor.

"Are you sure we should be out here?" Peeta asked me. "He's probably passed out drunk on the floor."

"He'll get up," I insisted resolutely.

"I don't want to bother him," he replied considerately.

"I don't mind," I asserted.

He averted his gaze downward and kicked at nearby rock, so I suppose he _did_ mind.

After that, he appeared to grow somewhat impatient, rocking back and forth on his heels, and shifting his hands in his pockets.

"It's getting cold," he remarked suddenly. "Maybe we should head back inside."

"What's your problem with Haymitch?" I blurted out suddenly.

Peeta looked up at me, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't.

"I just—" he stopped in hesitation. He looked up tentatively at the camera perched above the entryway and then looked back down at the ground.

"I just don't trust him, okay," he whispered quickly, in the most vague manner possible.

I stared at him questioningly for a moment.

When I realized I wasn't going to get an answer beyond that, I turned and rang the doorbell again, more forcefully this time.

I heard the faint sound of the doorbell blaring from the inside, and after a momentary silence it was followed by the distant sound of feet slugging noisily against the ground.

A short while after, the door was opened by a very inebriated man with a wild beard and an overall disheveled appearance.

"Hi, Haymitch," I began, forcing a tinge of optimism into my voice.

"What are you doing here? " he growled back.

"It's nice to see you too, Haymitch," Peeta replied dryly.

He scoffed. "It's never a good sign when I see the likes of you two at my door."

I could tell by the way he held onto the door for support that he had been drinking.

"We brought you some pie," I said trying again.

"I'm not in the mood for pie," he answered back harshly.

"Oh, come on, its Katniss' first time baking one. Just let us in."

Peeta's remark caught him off guard and he stared at him menacingly for a moment or two.

Then he slowly shifted his feet and trudged back inside his house, leaving the door swinging open behind him.

I took that as a signal of invitation, so I stepped inside the house, with Peeta following in after me.

I placed the pie on the table where Haymitch stood with a bottle of liquor already at hand.

"What do you two want from me? Huh?" he slurred angrily. "Haven't I already done enough for you?"

"Just sit down and have a slice of pie with us," Peeta proposed as he found a cutting knife in the kitchen and brought it to the table along with a set of clean plates.

Haymitch plopped down angrily into the chair in front of him.

"Alright," he said grudgingly. "I'll have a slice."

I stood at the table trying to assess whether or not Haymitch was in any condition to give us advice. Finally I decided it was worth giving a try.

"I think a slice of pie would go well with a glass of wine," I hinted at the drunken man sitting in front of me.

Peeta automatically looked at me, his blue eyes widening with surprise.

Fortunately Haymitch seemed to catch my drift, and he turned to look at me with a wild expression on his face.

"I like the way you think," he said with a grin. "Follow me, sweetheart."

He got out of his chair and led the way to his basement.

I looked at Peeta and saw he had a bewildered expression on his face.

"Come with me," I offered.

This only seemed to make him even more confused as he tried to understand why three people needed to go downstairs to fetch one bottle of wine.

"Please," I insisted, gently placing my fingers over his.

Peeta automatically looked down to where my hand held his. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, with a contemplative look on his face. Finally, he returned the gesture, clasping his fingers tightly around mine.

"Sure," he said turning up to face me again. With his hand securely positioned in mine, I guided him towards the basement door, following the sound of Haymitch's drunken movements down into the secluded wine cellar.

Once we reached the bottom, we were instantly assaulted by the strong scent of alcohol filling up the room.

Just as I remembered from my previous visit, there were rows of wine and liquor bottles stacked up against the walls, and shards of broken glass littered all across the dirty, unkempt floors. I saw a mouse skitter noisily across one side of the sticky, damp floors.

"So what do you two want?" Haymitched barked as he stood by the wine racks.

"What brands do you have?" Peeta asked.

Haymitch scoffed. "You didn't tell the boy about this room, did you?"

"There are no cameras in here, Peeta," I explained.

"There aren't?" he asked.

"No," I stated.

"And no one can hear us from upstairs?"

I shook my head.

"If you have anything to tell me, just spit it out already," Haymitch snapped. "I haven't got all day."

"We have an idea," I began. "About how to get around Snow's demands, without getting into trouble."

"I'm listening," he prodded.

"Why don't you tell him," I said gently nudging Peeta. "It was your idea."

Peeta looked at me in hesitation. I suppose he really didn't trust Haymitch enough to tell him. But in the end he conceded.

"We think that if we make Snow believe that Katniss is pregnant," he explained. "Then he won't target our families for the Quarter Quell. And it'll buy us enough time to think of a plan."

"And how are you going to get him to do that? There are eight more months until the Quarter Quell. He'll be expecting her to swell up by the end of it."

"I know about these pills from the Capitol. If she takes them once a week, it'll make the pregnancy believable."

Haymitch took a moment while he ruminated over the idea.

"I like it," he finally said.

"Really?" Peeta said making sure Haymitch wasn't being sarcastic.

"In fact, I _love_ the idea of making the public believe she's pregnant," he confirmed with a wild laugh. "The crowds will eat it up."

"That's what I was thinking," Peeta agreed. "Snow won't be able to attack us, if we have the public's support."

"Well, look at you, Mellark," Haymitch slurred sarcastically, as he poured himself a glass of brown liquor. "You've finally managed to think of a plan that isn't purely idiotic."

Peeta scoffed at his remark. "Well, it's not like you've been doing anything to get us out of this mess."

"There's nothing I _can_ do," Haymitch replied harshly. "There's nothing _any _of us can do. Everything changed the moment you took those berries into your hands. There's no going back now."

Peeta stopped to think about the gravity of his words. Haymitch was right. There was no going back now. Nothing would ever be the same again.

After a moment's pause Peeta spoke up again.

"We'll announce it at the next public event—the talent show."

"No," Haymitch interjected gruffly. "You'll announce it when I tell you to."

"We have to make the announcement as soon as possible. Or else Snow will start making preparations for the Quarter Quell."

_And our relatives' names will be put up for slaughter._

"They won't announce the rules for the Quarter Quell until four months before the Games begin," he informed us. "We have time."

Peeta stole a quick glance at me. I could tell he was just as hesitant about taking Haymitch's advice as I was. I wanted to do something to ensure Prim's survival as soon as I could. But I had to trust Haymitch. He _did_ get us out of the games.

I gave Peeta's hand a small squeeze to let him know I was willing to go along with Haymitch's plan.

"Alright," Peeta conceded turning up to look at Haymitch who had already resumed his drinking activities. "But what do we do until then?"

"Just worry about making district twelve look good at the talent show," he slurred back. "Leave everything else to me."

He picked out a bottle of wine from the rack, and walked up to where we stood.

"Now why don't we go upstairs and try that pie of yours, sweetheart," he said, handing me the bottle of wine.


	36. Nighttime Horrors

I awoke with a start in the middle of the night.

A pair of arms gripped my shoulders, and tried to tear me out of bed.

I ruthlessly shoved and clawed until I had freed myself from their violent grasp.

"Get off me!" I screamed.

I felt the same pair of arms clasp tightly around my flailing limbs, trying to hold me back.

In the distance, I heard a panic-stricken voice call out my name.

"No! I won't let you take him," I cried furiously as my hands reached out to where he stood not so far off in the distance.

The voice calling out my name only grew louder and louder with every passing second.

"I won't let you take him away from me," I yelled out frantically, almost on the verge of tears.

Suddenly I recognized the voice that was ever-persistent in its calls—it belonged to Peeta.

"Wake up, Katniss," he urged me softly.

The voice grew closer and closer, until finally I felt it whispering right beside me.

"Wake up," Peeta repeated as he gently shook me out of my slumber.

My eyes automatically shot open as I realized that I had been sleeping all along.

There was nobody holding me back. There were no arms to fight off.

Just Peeta, sitting on my bed right beside me, in complete darkness.

"They're going to take him away from me," I whimpered.

"Shh," he replied as he cradled me in his arms. "It's all just a dream."

"They caught Gale," I cried frantically onto his shoulder. "They caught him, Peeta. They're going to hurt him."

"It was just a dream," he reminded me. "No one's going to hurt him. I'm sure he's just sleeping in his bed right now."

"They're going to catch him," I continued worriedly. "Soon."

"They're not going to catch him," Peeta assured me.

"But President Snow said—" I didn't even want to finish the sentence. I didn't want to think about what might happen. Instead I just buried my head in his shoulder and tried my best not to cry.

"Don't worry," he said trying to console me. "He won't hunt anymore. You're going to tell him today, remember?"

"What if he won't listen to me?" I whispered nervously.

"Oh, he'll listen to you," he said stroking my hair. "Of course, he'll listen to _you_."

_I hope so. Otherwise, we're all doomed._

I realized that I had cleaved on so tightly to his nightshirt, that my hands left an imprint as I gently let go.

Now that I regained control of my senses, I could see the moonlight pouring in from the window, illuminating his face and gleaming across his golden blonde curls.

"You should get some sleep," he suggested, gently caressing my hair.

I looked into his comforting blue eyes and I nodded my head dully.

After that, he made his way out of my bed dutifully, leaving me the to the solitude of my room. As he moved towards the door, the light shone down his arms, illuminating several scratch marks that were viciously etched into his skin.

_He was hurt._

My eyes widened with fear.

_Because of me._

My hand instantly shot up to my mouth as soon as I had made the realization.

_I must have hurt him while thrashing around in my sleep._

My arms quickly darted out to stop him.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine," he assured me.

I pulled him closer to me so I could inspect the damage that I had done.

I spread his arms out in front of me and carefully examined the bruises strewn all over them. The scratch marks were clearly fresh, the blood still glistening under the moonlight, as it seeped out from under his skin.

"You're not fine," I blurted out. "I hurt you."

"I'll wash it off, and then I'll be fine," he insisted, taking my hands in his. "You just get some sleep, alright?"

I was so emotionally strained and exhausted at that point, that all I could do was to nod back weakly and fall into bed, wrapping my pillow into a tight embrace.

I fell into a dreamless sleep soon after that.


	37. Cameras

The next morning I woke up with only one mission on my mind: Find Gale.

The terror of my nightmares was only mildly reduced by Peeta's consolatory efforts.

Once the dawn's early light hit my face, the frightening thought of losing my best friend immediately returned to me and roused me from my bed.

Within seconds, I slipped into my old hunting gear and strapped on my boots.

I tried looking for Peeta, hoping to apologize to him for what happened last night. But when I searched the house I couldn't find him, so I decided I would talk to him later, when I returned home.

At the moment, I had more pressing matters to attend to. Such as tracking down Gale and letting him know what the consequences would be if he continued to hunt and act in defiance of the Capitol.

_He was probably in the forest already, setting up his snares, getting ready to hunt. _

I had no time to waste. Breakfast would have to wait. I grabbed a small grain ration, and ate it on my way out the door.

I made a turn out of Victor's Village and followed the proverbial path down to the woods with rapid strides. As I raced down the track, I tried thinking of all the places I could find Gale—and what I would say to him once I had found him.

Before long I approached the electrically charged gate that separated the Seam from the open wild. I pushed my way through the barbed wire that I knew to be no longer functioning. I raced down the pasture and into the woods, quickly shrouding myself in the thicket of trees before anyone could see me.

As soon as I was in the woods, I checked our old meeting place. He wasn't there, just as I predicted. I trailed deeper into the woods, until I found a snare that I knew was his. I headed a little further until I had found another one of his snares, and soon the pattern began to give me a sense of the direction he took.

The trail of snares led me past a long succession of trees, a series of rivers, and several animals that went rushing by me. I saw a small squirrel jump in front of me, and another ambling right behind it. My stomach grumbled noisily as I realized just how hungry I was. I gazed ravenously at the passing squirrels as I remembered what President Snow had said regarding poaching on Capitol grounds.

_No more hunting._

Which was why I hadn't even bothered to take out my bow and arrows from where they lay hidden snuggly in the crevice of a tree a long way from where I stood. I decided there was no point in provoking thoughts of illegal activity by having my hunting tools ready at hand.

A portly white rabbit rushed by me, instinctively drawing my attention.

I silently chastised myself for not having eaten anything more than a grain ration for breakfast. We still had leftover pie from the night before.

I reluctantly tore my gaze from the succulent rabbit as it ran off into the forest, and walked on, determined to find the boy with the snares.

I strode on for a while longer, following the path laid out by the snares I found.

Finally, the trail came to an end.

I searched the area until I came across a riverbank. Across the river, stood a large tree, behind which I could vaguely make out the silhouette of a single seated figure.

That must be Gale, most likely working on his next snare.

I carefully made my way across the riverbank, until I had reached the other side. I approached the tree cautiously, not yet sure how I was going to tell Gale to stop doing the one thing that he loved most.

_He'll think I'm a traitor for siding with the Capitol._

Just the thought made me so nervous that my voice seemed to have all but disappeared once I had reached the tree where Gale sat with his back turned to me.

"Hello, Catnip," he muttered to himself, without even turning to glance at me.

"Hi, Gale," I whispered back as I stooped to sit beside him.

Gale threw me a furtive glance and then averted his attention back to his work.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped.

"I came here to find you," I supplied, somehow finding my voice.

"Well, it's better if you don't," he answered curtly.

"I wanted to talk to you," I explained.

"You shouldn't be here," he responded flatly, with a tinge of bitterness hidden in his voice. "We wouldn't want the Capitol catching you talking to _me_ again."

"Do you really think they'd have cameras this deep in the forest?" I asked.

"There was one," he said motioning to a lofty tree that stood only a few feet away. "But not anymore."

"What do you mean?" I asked worriedly. "Gale, don't tell me you took it down?"

"Relax," he replied calmly. "The camera's still up there. I just took out the circuit box."

"The what?" I asked as I crouched to get a better view of what he had in front of him.

That's when I realized that he hadn't been working on a new snare.

Instead, he had a few metal tools laid out in front of him, along with a small black box that was almost entirely composed of multi-colored wires.

"This," he explained pointing to the black box. "Is the circuit box." A smug grin crossed his face. "With a little re-wiring, this camera won't be able to see_ anything_ worthwhile."

"Don't you think the Capitol will notice if one of their cameras stops working?"

"It won't stop working entirely," he explained. "It'll just repeat the same image over and over again."

"How are you going to make it do _that_?"

"All it takes is shifting some of these wires around," he said, illustrating the seemingly complicated technique for me.

"Since when do you know so much about wires?" Electronics was District Three's specialty, not ours.

"Since I started working at the mines," he said as if the answer was completely obvious. "We use machinery for our work. We can't exactly call in someone from District 3 every time a machine breaks down."

"So they call you instead?" I prodded teasingly.

"Yeah, Catnip, they call me," he said, rolling his eyes.

A few moments passed by in silence as Gale continued to work and I watched his careful movements. Then, finally, he began to explain.

"When I first started working in the mines, the elevator would break down almost every week, and I'd get stuck in there with about a dozen miners. We'd just stand there, for hours, waiting for the technical team to get there, getting absolutely no work done. So one morning, I got sick of it—I found the circuit box and I rebooted it. To everyone's surprise, it actually worked, and the elevator started running again."

"How'd you do it?" I asked curiously.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "During our training period, we took some classes on how to work the machinery, but they never really taught us how to fix the darn things if they ever broke. But somehow, when I saw the wiring, everything just clicked. I guess it's not so different from making snares," he concluded with a shrug.

"It looks pretty complicated," I commented gazing at all the different parts that made up the small metal box he held in his hands.

"After I fixed the elevator," he continued. "I got a job offer with the technical team."

"Did you take it?"

"Of course I did," he answered. "It pays a lot more than laboring in the mines, and it's definitely not as back breaking. And I get more training with electronics."

"Like cameras?"

"No," he scoffed. "They would never let us touch their precious cameras! Just the thought could earn you a weekly pay cut from your wages."

"So how'd you learn?"

"After all the training, it's become almost like second nature to me," he replied with a light shrug. "It didn't take long to figure out how these cameras worked. I've already rebooted about half of them," he informed me as he carefully closed the lid of the box he had been working on. "I just need a couple more weeks to work on the rest."

With that, he gathered his materials and stood up. I followed him as he walked over to the tree, and began re-installing the box into its original location.

"Come on," he urged me once he'd finished. "I'll show you where to find the rest of them."

He set off into the woods, knowing instinctively that I would follow him.

"You can't keep doing this, Gale."

He stopped in his tracks and glared at me with a surprised expression on his face.

"It's illegal," I explained. "You can't hunt anymore, either."

I watched as his expression transformed into one of utter betrayal.

A single moment passed by as I watched him scrutinize me with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

"Is that what they told you in the Capitol?" he asked jeeringly.

"No," I retorted, feeling my blood boil suddenly. "President Snow came to my house again. He said if anymore rules are broken, there will be consequences."

"So that's what you came here for?" He scoffed at me with a look of disgust. "To bring me a message from Snow?"

"No," I declared sharply, no longer able to contain the anger that surged inside of me. "I came here to stop you from doing something _stupid_."

"Oh, I'm the one who's acting stupid?" he snapped back angrily. "I'm not the one who gets dolled up and paraded _all_ throughout Panem like some little marionette that does whatever _they_ want out of _fear_."

His words cut through me like a knife.

"Maybe you're just fine with being their puppet," he concluded angrily. "But I'm not going to let the Capitol tell me what to do."

And with that, he stormed off into the forest, looking for more cameras to disarm.


	38. Best Friend

As infuriating as Gale's accusations were, I wasn't ready to give up on him yet. Maybe if I tried reasoning with him, I could knock some sense into him.

I sat on the grass and waited there, knowing that Gale always needed some time to cool off after he got this heated.

Hopefully, he would manage to unhinge another one of his circuit boxes before I got there, because, as much as I hated to admit it, he was right; having the cameras see us together would only make things worse.

As I waited, I glanced around at my surroundings. It's amazing that even though I had changed so much, the forest remained exactly as it did years ago, when I first came there as a child with my father's hand to hold.

The trees made the same rustling sound as their leaves gently swayed with the wind; the birds still hummed their sweet tune. The animals still continued to skitter across the wood, with quiet, careful steps, and the crickets continued chirping their familiar song throughout the forest. Lying down, I ran my fingers lazily through the wet beads of grass and admired the beauty all around me.

When I felt enough time had passed, I got up and walked in the direction Gale had gone, once again determined to find the boy with the snares.

I hoped Gale's temper had simmered down and his disposition towards me had improved by the time I got to him; Otherwise, I'd have no chance at changing his mind and persuading him to stop acting in a way that would be a hazard to him.

When I finally found him, he sat near a large green shrub, working on rebooting his next circuit box.

As soon as I approached him, his head automatically jerked up towards me.

"Oh, it's you again," he muttered coldly, as if he was expecting to see anyone else this deep in the woods.

"You didn't think I'd give up on you so easily, did you?"

"Don't you have some stupid dresses to try on or something?" he remarked.

"I'd rather be here," I insisted. "I don't like being put on display for everyone at the Capitol to gawk at."

Gale just laughed at my response.

"Oh, yeah, I can tell by the way you smile and cuddle with your husband that you just can't _stand_ receiving all those complimentary gifts from each district you visit."

"You think I _like_ going to the districts? You think I like facing the families of all the tributes I _killed_?" I cried, my anger seething. "All of that is _fake_."

The revelation seemed to catch him by surprise as he instantly glanced up at me with a new sense of understanding in his eyes. His eyes darted back to his black box and he continued working silently as he took in what I'd just said.

"If you really hate it," he finally responded. "Then why do you sit there, with a stupid grin on your face, selling all the Capitol's lies for them? Don't you realize that everyone around you is still suffering and _dying_ at their hands?"

"I _know_ that! But there's _nothing_ I can do about it," I replied frantically. "The system is too powerful. It's bigger than me and it's bigger than _you_."

"You've never let that stop you before," he argued. "No matter what they've thrown your way, you've always managed to pick yourself up again. You always come back bigger and better than before."

He paused for a moment and put the finishing touches on the circuit box he was reworking.

"That's what I've always liked about you," he muttered softly. "You would never give up without a fight."

He laid down his tools and gave the box one more scrutinizing glance before snapping the lid shut.

"Now, I feel like you've lost all the fight in you."

He stood up holding the newly refurbished circuit box in his hand.

"You've let them change you, Catnip."

_Maybe he's right. I have changed. But how could I not after everything I've witnessed?_

"You don't know what I've seen, Gale," I stammered, daring myself not to tremble at the thought of everything the Capitol had pushed me to do. The power they had over me, over everyone, it was so terrifying. It haunted me in my dreams every night, and was almost enough to defeat me. Sometimes, I thought it already had.

_He has no idea what it feels like to be a Victor—what it feels like when the Capitol is basically holding a gun at your back._

"You're right," he conceded. "I haven't seen everything you have. But I've seen what you can _do_," he stated emphatically as he gripped my shoulders and set his gaze directly on mine. "And I _know_ that you're stronger than this."

I looked into his grey eyes. They reminded me so much of my father's.

"Don't let them break you, Catnip."

"I won't," I whispered resolutely. "I promise."

"Good," he said letting go of my shoulders. He sauntered over to the overgrown shrub, intent on putting the circuit box back into its place and finishing his task. "I'm holding you to that promise.

"I'll keep it," I insisted. "Just as long as you stop hunting."

He instantly rolled his eyes at my remark, and gave an exasperated sigh. "Don't start with me, Katniss."

"You don't need to hunt anymore," I began. "You make enough to support your family on your mining salary. "

Offering a portion of my winnings to keep his family afloat would be entirely out of the question. He would simply feel offended and get mad at me all over again. So I continued with my initial tactic, using reason to persuade him.

"With your new promotion, you can buy your family everything they need. You can finally buy your sister that doll she always wanted, and a new pair of shoes for Rory."

"It's not about the money, Catnip," he sighed, instantly locking his eyes on mine. "You know that."

As much as I understood, I still shook my head fervently. "It's getting too dangerous."

"It's _always_ been dangerous," he insisted.

"Not like this," I argued, desperately trying to make him see logic. "You've seen the new Peacekeepers marching into town like they own twelve. They've already started tearing down the old gate. They're building up a new wall, that'll be bigger, and stronger, and manned by an entire army of Peacekeepers."

"You think I'm scared of the Capitol's army of drones?" Gale scoffed resolutely. "Let them send more. Even if they build two walls, I'll still find a way to get into _my _woods."

He bent down and started fitting the black box back into its initial position underneath the soil that nourished the green shrub.

"I always have, and I always will," he muttered to himself.

I let out a heavy sigh. Gale's usual stubbornness made my goal that much harder to accomplish.

"But it's _not_ like it's always been," I protested. "It hasn't been the same since I came back as a Victor."

"No," he said shaking his head. He stopped what he was doing, and gazed at me with a sudden sternness in his eyes. "It hasn't been the same since you came back as a Victor, with your district partner in tow."

I couldn't believe the words I was hearing.

I gawked at him and instantly felt my eyebrows stitch up in fury as soon as I realized what he was implying.

"You're saying that I should have _killed_ Peeta?" I cried out, glaring at Gale's crouching posture in disbelief.

_So this is how he truly felt about the final draw of the game._

_And all this time I thought my act of defiance would earn me a hearty pat on the back from Mr. Rebellion himself._

"You know, that's exactly what Snow wanted too," I remarked coldly. "Who knew the two of you had so much in common?"

Gale chuckled and averted his gaze back to the plot of land he was digging up.

"All I'm saying is," he trailed off in an innocent tone. "When Haymitch came back as a Victor, we didn't have new walls being built, Peacekeepers storming in from the Capitol, and cameras being set up within every inch of the district."

"You're right," I admitted finally owning up to all the guilt I felt. "This is all my fault. But I just couldn't do it. Not after _everything_ he had done for me."

"You mean everything he had done for _himself_," he growled in disdain. It was clear his views hadn't changed since the last time we spoke.

"Whatever the case was—it's done," I stated firmly.

"Unfortunately," I heard him grumble under his breath.

"_Everything_ has changed since then. You can't hunt anymore, Gale," I asserted once again. "You can't do anything illegal. If you do, then you won't just be putting yourself in danger. The _entire_ District will be targeted."

_And Snow said that he keeps a set of bombs under the mines._

That's what I wanted to say.

But I didn't.

I knew it wouldn't take long for him to put two and two together and figure out that the Capitol had been responsible for our fathers' deaths.

And that would only incense his rage against the Capitol even more—turning him into a ticking bomb just waiting to go off.

So I kept that part to myself.

Still, the idea of the District suffering at his expense immediately caught Gale's attention.

"Alright," he conceded with a reluctant sigh. "I'll stop hunting. But we have to figure out what we're going to do to stop the Capitol. We can't let them take over our district. You need to help me, Catnip. I can't do it without you."

"I'll do what I can," I promised.

Maybe Peeta was right—we had more power as Victors. Perhaps there was something I _could_ do to help.

"But you can't come back here next Sunday," I warned.

"Are you kidding me? What else am I going to do on my day off?" he exclaimed in an aggravated tone. "I still have all these cameras to reboot."

"Please," I implored softly. "I'll still meet you. We can spend the day with Hazel and the kids."

He seemed ticked off that I was putting a dent in his plans.

"I'll bring Prim," I coaxed. "It'll be just like old times."

"The Capitol won't get jealous?" he asked teasingly.

The way he phrased it made it sound as if he was alluding to the cameras that were recently installed in his home.

But I knew he was really referring to Peeta.

I noticed that Gale never pronounced Peeta's name out loud, only using the Capitol to refer to him, as if the two words were synonymous.

"No," I answered. "The _Capitol_ knows that I'm just visiting my family, and _nothing else_ is going on."

Hopefully, he got the message.

A sad look momentarily glazed over his eyes before he averted his gaze back to the gravel he was working with. The next few moments passed by in awkward silence, as he tried focusing on his work, and I trained my eyes directly on the bed of grass that lay before me.

I forgot how awkward it had gotten since he tried to kiss me.

I just wanted to forget that it ever happened.

When he was done hiding the circuit box beneath the ground, he rose up and brushed the dirt off his hands.

"The kids will be glad to see you," he said. "It's been a long time since you visited."

"I think a visit is long overdue," I agreed with a smile.

"They've missed you," he said deliberately setting his hopeful grey eyes on me.

"I've missed them, too," I whispered back, automatically lowering my gaze. I didn't want him to get the wrong impression. I did miss them—I missed Rory, Vick, Posy, even his mother Hazel. They were like family to me. But I missed my best friend more. And after he kissed me I didn't know where we stood anymore.

I didn't want to lose my best friend.

Not over a kiss.

"I should probably get going," I suggested. "It's a long way back."

The forest was a long trek from Victor's Village. I missed living in the Seam, right on the outskirts of the forest. I never realized how lucky I was back then.

"Yeah," he adjoined. "I should probably start collecting my snares."

"Leave them here," I remarked sternly.

"And let the animals die a slow and painful death?"

"If they see you with game on your hands, they'll know you've hunted, and they'll catch you!"

"Then I won't sell them!" he insisted. "I'll just take them home and eat it with my family."

"Oh, come on," I retorted. "You've caught at least fifteen animals, with all the snares you put out. There's no way you're family's eating all that!"

"We'll manage," he argued back.

"You're not allowed to sell them," I reminded him. "It's Capitol property. Who knows what they could do if they find you!"

"Catnip, you're being ridiculous!" he exclaimed in an irritated manner.

"You won't be saying that once you get caught!" I scolded.

"Fine," he conceded, although in a rather angry and reluctant tone.

"Don't sell them," I stated again with resolve. "Just leave them here. The other animals will eat them."

"Alright," he said rolling his eyes at me as he turned away and sauntered further into the forest. "Bye, Catnip," he yelled in the distance.

I shook my head at him. I truly hoped he would keep his promise, and leave the animal carcasses lying in the woods—and not risk his life out of his own hard-headed stupidity.


	39. Guilty Feelings

When I got home, I let my hunger take over me, and hurried to the kitchen to reheat the leftovers from last night's dinner.

As I sat at the table, zealously scarfing down the chicken that was tinged with its artificial Capitol flavor, my mind drifted back to the tempting set of squirrels that I spotted in the woods. Before I could make up my mind on whether or not I should pursue them, the pair had darted off into the distance and swiftly made their way up a tall tree. I knew I could easily get them with just one strike of my bow. From where I stood, it was an easy shot.

But hunting was no longer an option. Any illegal activity would automatically put my district at risk. I couldn't let that happen.

I decided to go to Greasy Sae's the next day and find out whether or not Gale was selling his game there. If he went around carrying game right underneath the Peacekeepers' noses, that would definitely stir up some trouble.

My stomach growled noisily, rousing me from my thoughts. I came to realize that the Capitol's chemically enhanced food just wasn't enough to fill up my immense appetite.

I went downstairs to the basement, where I found a heap of boxes piled on top of each other—the result of the latest food shipment from the Capitol.

I sighed in dismay.

No matter how much food the Capitol could send me, it would never be enough to fill me, because I knew exactly what it took to have them shipped there. I knew every horrifying thing that I had done—all the children that I _killed_, to attain that stack of food now sitting in my basement. To me, they weren't just packages of food—they were reminders of my disturbing past; they were souvenirs from a sick game that I had taken part in. A game that had forced me to reach into the darkest depths of my soul and commit unspeakable acts that I never thought I'd be capable of.

Just looking at the boxes disgusted me.

I decided I would give out the food to needy families in the Seam, until my house was emptied of all the revolting packages.

I knew the people in the Seam would be able to appreciate the packages more than I, since for them they would appear to be nothing more than a source of nourishment. Of course, mining families didn't take too kindly to receiving handouts, unless they were sent directly from the Capitol. So I would have to leave the packages at their doorsteps at night, before the early morning sun roused them from their sleep. That way the miners would assume it was just another shipment of food rations sent in by the Capitol to reward the winning district, and never suspect it was me.

After I creating a plan I was satisfied with, I went back upstairs and sat down for a slice of pie. While I finished the remaining two slices, I thought about the previous night's events. I actually enjoyed baking with Peeta. To my surprise, I even enjoyed visiting his parents.

I felt bad for turning him down all the times he tried taking me to his mother's house before. I had no idea the real reason he wanted to take me there was to show me the room he had built that was free from the watchful eye of the Capitol.

I was so grateful Peeta had found us a place to talk where the Capitol couldn't see us. I was glad we managed to create a plan to trick Snow and get around his terrible demand.

I liked learning about Peeta's family too, and discovering his hidden passion for carpentry. I smiled to myself as I thought of the bed he had built me. He was so sweet.

All this time, I thought he betrayed my trust and told Effie and Haymitch about my resilience towards our marriage. Turns out, my suspicions were all wrong.

Peeta never pressured me or made me feel guilty for how I acted towards him, even though I treated him with such bitter coldness. Without even a word from me, he seemed to automatically understand my need for space. He built me a bed that showed me how much he respected and cared for my needs—and how much he was willing to sacrifice to make me happy.

He was so _good_ to me.

But what had I done to repay him for his kindness?

I had taken advantage of his generosity and made myself a burden to him.

I allowed the convulsions of my nightmares to drag him out of his bed, and sit by my side while I grew into a frightened child, reacting at every terrifying image that floated through my subconscious mind. Despite his honest attempts to console me, I beat him, and scratched him until his arms were bloody red.

A pang of guilt hit me as I realized what I'd done. Not only had I hurt him, but I had also betrayed myself by showing him such a weak and vulnerable side of me.

I hated showing him how truly weak I was.

I despised the idea of showing anyone at all that underneath my tough exterior, I had fears so striking, so dark, and so terrible, that they had the power to break me, if only I showed one moment of weakness.

That's why I always made sure I locked my door at night, and stayed wide awake until I was sure Peeta had fallen asleep.

But after all of the previous day's excursions—visiting Peeta's parents, discovering his secret room, learning how to bake, and visiting Haymitch—I was so tired that I fell asleep just as soon as my head hit my pillow, not even bothering to check whether or not the door was locked.

_I should have locked my door._

If I did, then I wouldn't have gone through such a humiliating experience, having to hold onto Peeta like small child, crying on his shoulder, and showing him how utterly defenseless I was.

And most of all, he wouldn't have gotten hurt because of me.

I wasn't even sure of how I managed to cut Peeta so deeply. I looked down at my fingernails and noted that they had gotten pretty long. I hadn't bothered to cut them since my prep team had left me. The details of the past night all seemed so fuzzy. All I could remember were broken pieces of the nightmare that haunted me.

Maybe, the disastrous incident with Peeta was a nightmare, too. Maybe it had _all_ been a dream.

The idea appealed to me, and a small twisted smile appeared on my face.

Yes, I probably imagined the whole thing. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume that my deranged mind had created the entire event all on it's own.

Maybe the scratch marks I had witnessed all over Peeta's arms had just been a trick of the light.

After all, he did say he was fine.

When I confronted Peeta about the pain I inflicted on him, he denied it wholeheartedly; so perhaps I hadn't done him as much damage as I thought I did.

But then I remembered how strongly he denied every instance I brought up from his childhood that _proved_ just how cruel his mother had been to him.

He made it seem like his childhood was perfectly fine. As if his mother's beatings were completely normal.

Well, it wasn't normal. He wasn't fine then, and he wasn't fine now.

I had hurt him. Just as his mother had hurt him when he was a child.

_I'm turning into his mother._

The devastating realization produced a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I couldn't treat him like his mother had.

I couldn't hurt him anymore. I wouldn't allow myself to.

I thought about how callous I had been to him, ever since we came back from the Games. How manipulative I had been of his feelings for me. My blood boiled as I thought of how carelessly I exploited his feelings for me, and then tossed him aside when I no longer needed him. _He never did that to me._

All of a sudden, I regretted treating him like a pawn in my revenge plot against Snow. I maliciously conspired to manipulate Peeta's feelings for me, get myself pregnant, kill the baby while it was still a fetus, and then finally kill Snow—but I never considered what that would do to Peeta and how emotionally distraught he would become if I did that to him.

I was so selfish. I created schemes, and strategically played with Peeta's feelings, in order to advance my own self-serving goals. I promised never to do that again.

I didn't want to abuse him the way his cruel mother had.

_The image of Peeta's bloodied arms flashed in my head._

But it seems as though I already had. I trembled just at the thought of it.

Without a second thought, I ran to the medicine cabinet upstairs and extracted a pair of scissors. In an instinctive rage I tore off the top of every nail on my hands until my fingers were bloodied yet rendered perfectly safe and harmless.

There. I couldn't hurt him again.

I turned the faucet on, and rinsed my fingers under the cold water. I watched as the blood dripped down my hands and swirled down the drain.

Afterwards, I went to my room where I stored the book on medical plants that my mother had given me. I flipped through the pages, until I found a remedy for scratches. My eyes scanned down the list of ingredients, and I noted that I had most of them in the house already.

I collected all the necessary ingredients from the fridge and retrieved the rest from the medicine cabinet. Then I went outside and clipped a small plant to complete the recipe. I gathered all the items in a bowl and mixed them together, until they had blended to make the perfect healing balm.

I remember my mother making a similar ointment for my father when he would return home with injuries he got from working in the mines.

I was glad I watched my mother make this recipe, because Peeta needed it now.

When I was done making the healing balm, I placed it in the fridge to let it cool. I found some fabric for the bandages and placed them near the fridge, so they would be ready to use when Peeta came home.

I glanced at the time. It was only four o'clock. Peeta wouldn't be home for another couple hours. He would probably be hungry by the time he got home. I decided to make some soup.

By the time I had made the soup a whole hour had gone by. I sat down and ate a small share of it. I glanced at the clock on the wall and determined that only another fifteen minutes had passed.

I went to the living room and paced around the room while I thought of what else I could do to pass the time. Finally, I decided I would study my book of medical plants. I brought the book and got comfortably situated on the couch. I began reading the book all the way from its beginning, while continuously stealing glances at the clock perched above the fireplace. I grew restless and decided to change the wood and reignite the fire.

After that was done, I looked back at the clock and realized it was already half past six. Peeta should be home by now. The bakery closed early on Sundays, at around six o'clock. I started pacing the wooden floors once more. I grew fraught with worry; maybe his mother was harassing him again. Who knew what she did to him when I wasn't there.

_My mom can be a real nightmare sometimes, _he'd said. He told me she was usually nicer in front of company. If that was how she acted when she was _nice_, I couldn't imagine how terrible she must be when she was alone with her children.

I looked back at the clock once more. It was nearly seven. I wondered what was taking him so long. Maybe he ran into his old girlfriend again. I couldn't make out what the state of their relationship was, but I could definitely tell there was some tension there. By the way she hugged him, I could tell she still had feelings for him. He hadn't returned her hug, but maybe if I wasn't there, things would've played out differently.

I sighed. I shouldn't be so anxious about his whereabouts. Maybe he just got held up at the bakery. Even if he did find himself in the arms of an old lover, who was I to condemn him? It's not like I would ever show him the affection he needed. I had vowed to remain emotionally detached. So, even if we did end up getting intimate in in the physical sense, I would still be emotionally unavailable. I had already made up my mind about that.

Having calmed down, I sat down on the couch and continued reading my book.


	40. Burden

**Peeta's POV**

It was around nine o'clock when I started heading back to my house in the Victor's Village. I closed down the shop hours ago, since Sunday was the one day out of the week when we closed the shop early, at around six o'clock.

After work, I usually stayed at my mom's house. There I ate my dinner, and then snuck downstairs to the basement, into my private study. Well, that's what I'd like to call it. That's where I would always go, to draw, read, paint, write, and build. Sometimes I'd go there just to be alone, and escape the sheer madness of the world.

On that particular evening, I had gone there to paint. For the last couple of weeks, I had been working on several pieces that I planned on exhibiting during the Talent Show. I didn't want anyone to see them before they were unveiled in front of the entire television audience. I wanted it to be a surprise.

Luckily, I made sure to hide most of my artwork before I brought Katniss there. I didn't want her to see the artwork I was preparing for the Talent Show. Most of it was based on what we had seen during the Games—needless to say, they were very gruesome images. I didn't want to torment her by making her relive all the disturbing moments we had witnessed in the arena. She had enough nightmares as it is.

I hid most of the illustrations I made prior to the Games, because I'd rather not show those to Katniss, either. Mostly because they were just plain embarrassing. Most of them were of her. The others, they were too personal. She wouldn't understand. She barely knew me until the reaping. I doubt she even knew my name, until it was called right after hers by Effie's deceptively cheery voice.

Even now, after all that we've been through, I doubt she would care. She definitely made it clear that she didn't want anything to do with me. When I'd come home, she'd rush off to bed, as if to avoid any possible interaction with me.

The only time she showed me any interest at all, was when someone's life was in danger and she needed me to pass off a ruse that would save them.

As much as it hurt to admit, I couldn't help but admire her for it. There weren't too many people that would give up as much as she did for her loved ones. The few people that she let into her world, she loved so loyally and passionately that she was willing to do anything for them. Even if that meant giving up her own happiness; she would do it without a question. That's how brave and fearless she was.

I was constantly amazed by how devoted she was to the people in her life; so much that she was willing to sacrifice everything she stood for, just for them. I admit, I didn't know Katniss that well, but the one thing I definitely knew about her was her staunch view against having children. I could tell that the idea of bringing innocent beings into this harsh, cold world frightened her more than anything else. But she was willing to overcome this fear if it meant that she could save her sister's life. She was so selfless.

Just like when she risked her own life to save mine. She found me in the arena when I was practically on the brink of death, and risked her own life to nurse me back to health and get me the medication that I needed.

I was such a burden to her, and yet, she stayed by my side until the very end. It would have been so much easier for her if she had just left me there to die, and won the Games all by herself. But instead of selfishly taking my life in order to preserve her own, she contemplated committing suicide with me. Even if that meant she would have to give up all hope of returning home and taking care of her sister. But she took the risk, if only to save _my_ life—someone that she barely even knew.

She didn't have to do all that. Especially since she admitted that she didn't really love me.

At first, her revelation infuriated me. I hated her for making a mockery out of my feelings, and embarrassing me on live television. But in the back of my mind, I knew that if she hadn't done what she did, I wouldn't even be alive. She didn't _have_ to put on that ruse; she could have easily won the games without it. But she did it for _me_; to make sure that I would get out alive _with her_.

I don't know why she sacrificed so much for me. I doubt I ever will. But perhaps it's just in her nature to be so selfless and giving, even to those that she hardly even knew.

Although I knew she could never love me back, knowing just how selfless she was only made me love her all the more.

After all, how could I stay angry with her, when she had given up so much for me?

In sparing my life, she went against the Capitol's rules, and automatically put her own life in danger, as well as the lives of everyone she loved.

If she had won the Games according to the rules, then I would be _dead_—but her life would be so much easier.

She wouldn't be receiving monthly visits from President Snow, threatening all the people she loved most. She wouldn't be labeled a rebel and put under intense scrutiny of the Capitol, having cameras follow her every move. She would be able to live with her family in the Victor's Village instead of with me. She would be able to hunt. She would be able to go into the woods with Gale—her best friend, lover, whatever he was. She wouldn't have to pretend to be in love with me. She could be with Gale, and not worry about what the Capitol would think. She could be _happy_ without me.

I didn't want to be a burden to her the way I had been in the Games. So I tried to distance myself from her life as much as possible.

I came home from work late, so that she had enough time to fall asleep before I got home. That way she'd have the entire day to herself and could spend it with her family, just like she used to before the Games took place.

I didn't want to pressure her to act like she loved me—I didn't think I could take it if she did. But I knew the cameras in our house would make her feel compelled to continue her charade of affection for me, and that would only result in a series of very awkward conversations between us. So I avoided the house as much as possible.

_I doubt she minds that I'm never there. She's always avoiding me as it is._

I glanced at my watch and realized it was almost half past nine as I sauntered on my journey back to the Victor's Village. I took an old beaten path to get home, since it took longer than the regular route, and it would spare me the trouble of having to run into anyone I knew.

Ever since I got back from the Games, I tried to avoid all the people that I used to know. They didn't understand how terrible it was to be a Victor. How horrible it was to have innocent blood on your hands.

All they saw was what the Capitol _wanted_ them to see—the wealth, the happiness, the pride of their current Victors. They were so blinded by the Capitol's lies that they couldn't see past the the extravagant outfits created for their Victors and the faux smiles that adorned our faces every time we appeared on televised events.

They didn't know how truly miserable we were—with ourselves, with each other.

They didn't realize that the everlasting happiness and romance of their two honored Victors was all just a terrible lie.

_Just imagine what Percy would say if he learned the true state of my marriage to Katniss._

I let out a silent chuckle as the idea crossed my mind. _Pathetic. That's what he would say about someone who was married and couldn't even share a bed with his own wife._

I couldn't bring myself to share a bed with her. It was different now that we were married. I couldn't sleep in the same bed with her, knowing that she was my wife, and I could never touch her, never hold her like I wanted to. It would be too much.

So I built her a bed of her own.

I was surprised that she liked it. I was even more thrilled to learn that it reminded her of her childhood, since apparently her father used the same kind of wood as I did. I finally managed to do something right. Something that would put a genuine smile on her face.

I didn't know carpentry was the way to a girl's heart, but that's probably why she let me teach her how to bake. I was glad she did, because that was definitely the best half hour I've _ever_ spent baking. And I've baked a lot of pies in my life.

I don't think we've been that close to each other since the Games. And I still didn't know how much of what we shared in the arena was staged. But this time—I _knew _it was real. There was something in the air that changed between us. I definitely I felt it. I hoped she did too.

It _seemed_ like she sensed the difference, because she finally let down her guard around me.

She even _joked_ with me. I don't think she's done that since the first time we met Haymitch and constantly made fun of his drinking problems.

And she smiled at me. More than once. I couldn't help but grin like a fool every time she did. She looked so beautiful when she smiled.

I hope she didn't notice how my heart quickened every time we touched; or how I eyed her as she wrapped the apron around her tiny waist, my arms aching to hold her. If only she'd let me—I would never let go.

My face flushed as I thought of how close we stood, rolling the dough with our fingers intertwined, and the amount of restraint it took for me not to pull her in closer and kiss her gently on her soft, beautiful neck.

Somehow, we had managed to finish making the pie. It ended up tasting pretty good, although I was so nervous that I actually forgot to add some of the ingredients. Despite what I told her, no matter how good she got at baking pies, I knew it would _never_ be a good idea to have her working beside me in a bakery. She was too much of a distraction.

But she didn't have to know that. I'd gladly teach her every recipe I've ever learned if only that meant I'd get to spend more time with her.

It felt so amazing just being ourselves. No cameras. No scripts. No funny looking people from the Capitol. No ultimatum from the President hanging over our heads.

Just two people enjoying each other's company.

Of course, there are plenty of other things I'd rather do to her on that kitchen counter. But those fantasies would have to stay locked away in my head forever.

Still, I couldn't seem to erase the feeling of elation that instantly struck my heart once I realized that she was finally opening up to me.

However slightly, I felt that we had started making progress. She was finally making room for me in her heart.

Or at least that's what I thought until later that night, when I heard her battling with her nightmares.

At first, when I heard her screams erupt through the stillness of the night, I thought she was dreaming about the arena again. I immediately rushed to her side to calm her down.

_I won't let you take him away from me._

I could still hear her blood-curling screams bouncing around in my head. I don't know _who_ I thought she was referring to when she distinctly screamed _him_. Her father? _Me_? No, it'd be too far a stretch to think she was dreaming of me.

But it wasn't her father. It was Gale.

Of course it was.

I should have known it was him.

Her lover.

Just hearing his name felt like she drove a knife straight through my heart and wrung it around a couple times just to make sure I felt the pain.

It's a good thing I know how to mask my feelings so well. Otherwise, I would have broken down right then and there, cracking under the pressure of her unwitting coldness towards me.

But it wasn't her fault. She wasn't in her right mind when she uttered his name.

I was the fool, for not seeing it sooner. I should have known. Gale was the only one she ever cared about. Her heart belonged to him—and there was no space for me in it.


	41. Scratches

A pang of jealousy struck me as I opened the door to my house and quickly rushed in. I suddenly remembered the reason I was so happy to leave the house that morning.

Katniss said she would be spending the day with _Gale_.

Of course, her excuse for seeing him was an honorable one—to warn him of the threats made by Snow.

But I knew that just like the rest of the miners that always wound up in the bakery on their day off—Gale didn't work on Sundays. And I knew that Katniss made an effort to go into the woods every single Sunday. It didn't take a genius to figure out that they've been meeting up all along.

I didn't know what they did in the woods, but I've heard rumors.

I knew Gale had a reputation. My cousin Hannah knew Gale from working at her mother's butcher shop, and she always insisted there was something going on between him and Katniss. To my dismay, she would often go into detail about what she thought their frequent trips to the woods would consist of.

I tried not to mull over all the lewd things my cousin had told me they would do, as I hung up my coat and pulled my shoes off. I just wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible and drive the awful thoughts from my head.

As soon as I entered the living room, I noticed Katniss lying on the couch, fast asleep.

_Great._

Not a day had passed since I told her I built the bed she was sleeping on, and she already found a new place to sleep.

_I shouldn't have told her the truth. I should have lied to her and told her I got it shipped in from the Capitol._

I rushed off towards the stairs trying to control my anger so that I wouldn't tread against the living room floors too loudly and run the risk of waking her.

"Peeta?" I heard her soft voice mumble in the dark.

_Oh, Great. Now I woke her. Why do I have to walk so loudly?_

I turned to face her. Maybe I could convince her to go upstairs. She'd be more comfortable sleeping in her bed.

She got up from the couch and started walking towards me, squinting her eyes to see through the darkness.

"How are your arms?" she whispered faintly.

I was somewhat taken aback by her question. I hadn't expected her to remember what happened last night.

"Fine," I replied quickly, even though that wasn't the truth.

The scratch marks still burned from the night before. They made work in the bakery somewhat difficult, but I got my brother Patrick to do all the heavy lifting that day. I didn't tell him why though. He just assumed my leg had been bothering me again, and I agreed. I made sure I wore a long sleeved shirt to cover up all the scratch marks.

The scratches weren't just on my arms. I had some scratches on my shoulders, chest, and back too. I don't know _who_ Katniss was fighting in her dream, but I could tell she really wanted to hurt them.

Katniss groggily rubbed her eyes and sauntered over to where I stood by the stairs.

"Does it still hurt?" she murmured.

"No," I lied, hoping to reassure her. "I ran my arms under cold water last night. They should be fine now."

I put some ice on them too, but I decided to leave that part out. I didn't want her to worry about me.

"Let me see," she insisted taking one of my arms in hers, and delicately pulling up my shirt sleeve. A look of horror gripped her face as her eyes darted across all the scratch marks that were etched on my forearm.

"Come here," she said immediately grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the stairs.

_Is it completely pathetic that I'm married to her and I still get excited every time she touches my hand?_

I decided it was. But still I couldn't help but enjoy the feel of her soft skin against mine.

She guided me towards the kitchen, where she came to a halt and flicked on the lights. She didn't pull her grip away from me until we reached the counter.

"Sit down," she directed, and I readily complied, taking a seat on a nearby stool.

She stretched my arm out on the counter, and carefully examined my bruises under the florescent light of the kitchen.

"What did you put on this?" she asked after a few careful moments of inspection.

"Some ice," I admitted. "To keep the swelling down."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," I muttered, slightly confused.

"You're not supposed to leave scratches open like that," she said with a hint of concern in her voice. "They'll get infected."

I gave a small shrug before replying. "That's what we always did when we were kids."

"It works for bruises," she corrected, looking up to meet my eyes. "Not scratches."

I still couldn't believe she noticed all the bruises I had when I was younger. I put so much effort into creating believable stories to tell my friends so that no one would suspect how abusive my mother really was. Most of the time it worked and no one asked questions. None of my friends seemed to notice.

_But Katniss noticed_.

She pulled my other arm into the light and inspected the scars, all the while holding my hand in hers.

I smiled lightly to myself._ And all this time, I thought she didn't even know I existed until the Reaping._

I felt her small hand tug at the collar of my shirt as she carefully examined the bruises on my left shoulder.

_Maybe she did care somewhat about me. Maybe, just maybe, I still had a chance with her._

"Take off your shirt," she directed suddenly—instantly rousing me from my thoughts.

I eyed her with a look of momentary surprise before my brain registered that she told me to take off my shirt to inspect the scratches on my body and not for any other reason.

She shyly averted her gaze and turned to look away from me, as soon as I started unfastening the buttons to my shirt.

_She's so adorable, _I thought smiling to myself. _She's just as sweet and innocent as she was in the arena._

I pulled off my shirt and set it aside on the counter.

_And to think that just days ago she was trying to seduce me. She can't even handle seeing me without my shirt on._

I watched as she took out a bowl from the refrigerator and set it on the counter.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"It's an old recipe my mother uses for scratches," she replied. Her eyes flitted over to look at me and a terrified expression instantly seized her face as she noticed all the scratch marks that adorned my chest, back, and shoulders.

"I hope I made enough," she whispered sullenly, turning her gaze away from me.

She got up and glided over to the kitchen sink, where she washed and dried her hands before coming back to the counter and sitting down next to me. She took my arm once more and set it on the counter.

After a few moments watching her inspect her arm, I asked, "So, what's the diagnosis?"

She grimaced before answering in a somber tone. "It's a lot worse than I thought."

"But I'll live?"

"Yeah," she chuckled, despite herself. I was glad I was able to put a smile on her face.

"Good," I said, before adding mockingly, "I thought I was done for."

I watched as she dipped her small fingers into the bowl and applied the ointment gently over my scars. Her touch instantly sent a jolt of electricity through my body.

"It's not funny, Peeta," she admonished in a serious tone. All of a sudden, her fingers dropped, and her voice broke as she opened her mouth to speak. "I keep—I keep hurting you."

"It's not your fault," I assured, immediately trying to console her. "You didn't mean to do it."

The tormented look on her face told me that she wasn't convinced.

"Not this time," she said, as a guilty look gripped her face. "But remember right before the Games, when I hurt your hands with that vase? I meant to do it then."

"Yeah, but you didn't really know me back then," I countered back, reassuringly. "You had every reason to do that considering the circumstances. I mean, technically, I _was_ your competition."

_I doubt she really even knows me now. But when we first met each other in the Games, she had no reason to trust me. I could have been plotting to take her life for all she knows._

"No," she stated. "I shouldn't have attacked you. It was _too_ violent. And you didn't mean me any harm."

"You had no way of knowing that," I assured, before flashing a smile. "It was a fight to the death. You're supposed to expect a little violence."

She bit her lip again as she ruminated over my line of reasoning.

"Come on," I coaxed. "I know you wouldn't treat me like that if we had met any other way."

I wasn't sure how much I believed that myself. But I just wanted to say _anything_ that would comfort her and get that scared, helpless look off her face.

She didn't seem entirely convinced either, and immediately averted her attention back to spreading the healing lotion on my arm. The lotion burned a little, but I wasn't about to whine about a little bit of pain in front of _her_—not when she already felt so guilty about all the pain she had caused me.

Besides, I liked the way her skin felt every time she touched me, gently massaging all of my wounds. I smiled silently to myself, acknowledging how absolutely lucky I turned out to be that night, as my eyes pored over her, slowly drinking her in.

I glanced at her clothes and noticed she still had her hunting clothes on. That could only mean one thing. She probably got home late from her trip to the woods with Gale, and didn't have enough time to change into her nightclothes before she fell asleep on the couch.

_Ugh, Gale._

_Why is he ruining my intimate moment with Katniss right now?_

I hope she got through to him today. I didn't want her to have an excuse to see him again. Especially not alone in the woods. Who knows what they did there. According to the stories I heard from Hannah, it couldn't be anything good.

_If she can convince him to stay out of the woods, it would only be better for me._

"Did you get to talk to your cousin today?" I asked cautiously. I made sure to omit any mention of his name or the woods, considering all the cameras that were positioned in the kitchen.

Her eyes darted up to me, perhaps startled at the reference to her cousin. I guess she's not used to hearing her _boyfriend_ being referred to as her cousin.

"Yeah," she answered succinctly.

"What did he say?"

"He said he wouldn't do it anymore," she replied, pursing her perfectly shaped lips together in agitation.

_Hopefully that means she'll stop seeing him too._

"But I still have to keep an eye on him," she informed me, instantly bursting my initial bubble of happiness.

She didn't seem to take notice of my dismal reaction. Her gaze was set directly on my arm as she slowly worked her way up.

At that moment, I really wished I could ask her about her relationship with Gale.

_Is he her boyfriend? Or are they simply just friends?_

If she did have something going on with him, I'd rather know _now_; I'd rather know the truth, then to be left in the dark, and misled into thinking I had a chance with her when I really didn't.

I couldn't make the same mistake twice._  
><em>

Despite how desperately I needed to ask her, I knew I couldn't expect an honest answer from her in front of all these cameras. I'd have to wait until next Saturday, when we were in my mother's basement, away from all the Capitol's cameras, in order to ask her.

I watched her as she continued applying the healing balm onto my skin. I noticed her hair was slightly ruffled from sleeping on the couch, and her braid sat loosely in its coils. Her long, dark, eyelashes batted together softly as she looked up from my arm and dipped her fingers back into the bowl again.

The light shone down on her face, illuminating her honey-colored cheeks, and highlighting the elegance of her long neck as it extended down to her slender collarbone.

_She's so beautiful. It's like she gets more beautiful every time I see her._

"Ouch!" I exclaimed suddenly. "That burns!"

I was able to ignore the stinging sensation produced by the cream until Katniss spread it on a rather grisly gash on my shoulder that was far worse than the others.

"Shh," she cooed in a soft voice. "It'll all be over in a second."

"I don't really mind if it takes longer," I admitted carelessly, as a foolish grin formed on my face. "You're so beautiful, I could watch you all day long and not get tired."

Katniss blushed, and quickly tried to hide it by turning her face down.

I wish she didn't. She looked even more beautiful when she blushed.

Katniss turned away from me to get some more ointment from the bowl. Then I felt her soft fingertips gently brush against my chest, massaging another one of my wounds.

Her touch felt soft and moist against my skin. It almost made all the pain worth it.

_I should probably get hurt more often._

I was secretly glad I had so many scars, and it was taking so long to treat them. Just her touch was enough to drive me crazy.

She stopped suddenly and set her fingers on the small metallic pendant I wore around my neck.

She let her fingers cradle the ornament as she took a moment to study its design. Her lips parted slightly as she stood gazing at it, and I wanted nothing more than to reach in and kiss her on her soft, sweet lips.

"Can you take this off?" she proposed delicately, stirring me from my daydreams.

I considered her proposal for a moment. I had worn the pendant around my neck since I was twelve. I never took it off—not even in the arena.

But I'd do _anything_ for her.

"Sure," I complied, automatically pulling the leather band off my neck and placing it right on top of the shirt that lay nearby on the counter.

"You wore the same necklace in the arena," she commented softly, as she continued applying ointment on my wounds.

"Yeah," I replied, completely surprised that she would remember such a small detail about me. "It was my token."

"Why the necklace?" she asked curiously.

"To remind me of what I was fighting for," I answered, regarding her with gratefulness swelling in my heart as she worked on restoring me back to health for the second time in my life.

"Your family?" she guessed. She rubbed the healing lotion over a scar that lay across my chest, where I could feel my heart starting to beat at an accelerated pace.

"No," I murmured, with a soft shake of my head.

"Then for what?" she asked in a surprised tone.

I gazed into her captivating grey eyes as I thought of a suitable response.

Finally in a voice that was barely a whisper, I gave her my answer. "For justice."


	42. Bandages

**A/N**

**Just a bit of fluff for you guys.**

**Hope you like it. :)**

* * *

><p>Katniss fixed her sparkling grey eyes on me, as if trying to understand my answer. I wish I could give her an answer that was better than that, but I really didn't know how else to explain it.<p>

Her eyes darted back to the bowl of healing ointment. She mopped up a small gunk of it and walked behind me to start working on the scars that were lined up and down my back.

I took the pendant back into my hands to re-evaluate the old ornament that had dangled around my neck for so long. It was attached to so many memories. It would take too long to explain everything.

"It also doubles as a great choking device," I insisted. "Just in case I couldn't snag any usable weapons at the cornucopia."

I heard a chuckle come from behind me, and guessed Katniss was probably rolling her eyes by now.

"What was your token? A bird pin?" I asked, as I felt her fingers move up and down my back, creating a tickling sensation on my skin. I noticed she liked wearing her token to almost every Capitol-related event.

"A mockingjay," she answered.

"The sign of a rebel," I remarked, before adding. "You could have totally poked someone's eye out with that thing."

I heard a soft laugh escape her pretty lips, as she pushed my jaw to the side, and began applying the cream to my neck.

"Stop moving," she said. "Every time you do it throws me off."

"I can't help it," I said. "You're tickling me."

"I am_ not_ tickling you," she argued.

"Yes, you are," I insisted. "Maybe you don't realize it, but you definitely are."

"It's not my fault that you're ticklish."

I gave up fighting the matter and decided it must not have been intentional on her part.

Suddenly, I felt a tickling sensation on my neck that caused me to burst out in laughter and automatically pull away from her.

I turned to look at Katniss accusingly. "You did it again!"

"I didn't mean to," she denied innocently, but the smile on her face gave her away.

"You definitely did that on purpose," I said throwing her a distrustful look.

"No, I didn't," she countered back defensively. "Now stop being a baby, and hold _still_," she added, grabbing my hand and pulling me back towards her. "I'm almost done."

She smeared another streak of ointment against my neck. I let her fingers creep all the way down to my midriff, thinking there was another bruise she had to cover—then, all of a sudden, I felt her fingers tickle my waist, causing me to instantly double over in laughter.

This time she couldn't contain her guilt because she burst into laughter just as soon as I did.

"I'm going to get you back," I warned.

"No, you're not," she argued.

"Yeah, I am," I smirked with steadfast determination.

"I'm not ticklish," she asserted coolly.

"That's what they all say," I scoffed.

"We don't have time for games right now," she said with a serious expression on her face. "I still have to put on your bandages."

She reached over to get the bandages from the table, exposing her midriff in front of me. I instantly seized the opportunity and grabbed her by the waist, causing her to burst into a fit of giggles.

_I don't think I've ever heard her giggle before._

_It's probably the most pleasant sound I've ever heard._

"Okay, stop, stop," she managed to say in between laughs. She tottered slightly as I let go and I instinctively grabbed her wrists to steady her.

"Hey don't go falling on me now," I said, pulling her back up. "I don't want to be the one putting this stuff on you next."

"It's for scratches, not bruises," she corrected me again. Except this time she had a smile adorned on her face, which was flushed with color as she panted lightly, trying to catch her breath and recuperate from laughing so much.

I still held her hands in mine, while she sat there on my lap, with her twinkling grey eyes looking straight into mine. I noticed her beautiful lips were only inches away and suddenly I had a urge to kiss them.

But before I could pull myself out of my trance and actually _do_ something, I felt her hands softly jerk away from my grasp.

"I still have to set the bandages," she said quietly, her eyes deliberately flitting away from mine.

Her hands quickly reached out for the bandages, grabbing them in a haste.

"Oh, yeah, the bandages," I blinked.

She leapt up from my lap with a sudden start, ready to get back to work.

I was sad that the moment had passed, before I could even do anything about it.

It's the kind of moment that doesn't come too often. Not with Katniss.

For the next couple of minutes, her focus remained entirely on the bandaging process, as she lifted my arms and set them down again wherever it was appropriate to do so.

"There. All done," she exclaimed when she had finished.

"It feels a lot better now," I remarked. "I don't feel the burn anymore."

"I told you it would go away," she said knowingly. "Now all you have to do is put the healing balm on your scratches once a day, and make sure you put on the bandages before you go to sleep. You should be as good as new within a couple days."

"Thanks, Doctor Everdeen," I replied with a smile.

She gave a quick grin back. Then she bit her lip nervously as if she had just remembered something.

"Are you hungry?" she asked suddenly. "I made soup."

"Oh," I exclaimed, glancing over at the stove, and just noticing the pot that sat there.

I wasn't hungry since I already ate a big meal at my mother's house.

"It's a bit late," I explained. "But I'll eat it tomorrow."

"I'll put it in the fridge then," she replied.

"No, I'll put it away," I offered. "You did enough work as it is," I added motioning to my bandaged arms. "You should go upstairs and get some sleep."

"Okay," she conceded giving me one last glance. "Goodnight."

She exited the kitchen and walked upstairs.

I put away the soup, and the healing balm back into the refrigerator. Then I walked upstairs. Before I went to bed, I tiptoed toward her room, and peeked my head in. I just wanted to make sure she was sleeping in her bed again. She was.

_Okay, so she didn't hate the bed that I built for her._

I closed her door, and with a smile on my face, I tread softly back into my own room.


	43. Food Packages

**Katniss' POV**

I woke up in the middle of the night, and quietly crept out of my room. Since my room had originally been an extremely large dressing closet, it was adjoined directly to the master bedroom. I tiptoed through the room, edging my way towards the door taking quiet steps, making sure not to wake Peeta as he lay there on his bed, fast asleep.

I went downstairs to the basement, where all the packages of food lay despite of my severe animosity towards them. I had to get rid of them.

I began gathering the lightest packages first, stacking them into a small wagon I had found in the back of the basement, that was probably left by an inattentive Peacekeeper when the packages were first brought into the house.

When the cart was full, and the packages were neatly arranged one on top of the other, I put on my boots and my coat. I collected my keys into my pocket and exited the house. I swiftly made my way through the darkness of the night, dragging the cart of food through town, all the way down to the Seam.

When I got to the Seam, I began unpacking the contents of the wagon, and distributing a package of food at each house that was lined down the coal-ridden pathway. It was dark, but it wasn't hard to find each house. I knew the exact layout of the Seam, having lived there for so many years. I moved quickly down the path, attempting to get to each house before the shining rays of the rising sun broke through the stillness of the night.

After I had reached the very last house, I wheeled the wagon back to my mother's house. As I approached the house, I arbitrary glanced down at my fingers. That's when I noticed I had forgotten something. My engagement ring and wedding band were both missing from my hand.

I had to go back and get them. My mother's house was filled with cameras. I couldn't go to her house, without donning the emblems of my marriage to Peeta. It would look too suspicious.

I immediately walked past my mother's house and made my way back to the Victor's Village.

I didn't mind the long walk back, because I knew it would be better if I left the wagon at my house before visiting my mother. Otherwise, the mining families might become suspicious upon seeing it parked in my mother's front yard.

Maybe I could even manage to bring back one more box of food to the Seam on my way back.

There was a large box of food that I could leave at Greasy Sae's. She could sell the food for a marginalized price. The box was rather heavy, but I was still willing to carry it the long distance. It would be worth the effort in the end, considering the number of mouths I'd feed.

I left the wagon in my backyard, concealing it behind a large collection of bushes. That way the wagon was hidden yet easily accessible for the next time I would need it to distribute food.

After that was done, I entered my house, making sure to be as quiet as possible when shutting the door, so as not to wake Peeta.

I silently pulled off my boots and then hung up my coat in the dresser.

"Good morning!" I heard a cheery voice greet me from behind.

"Peeta!" I exclaimed, whirling around to look at him where he stood by the entrance of the living room, fully dressed. "Why are you up so early?"

"I heard some noises coming from the basement. When I came downstairs, you were gone. I got worried," he explained softly. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong."

"Then why'd you leave so early?"

I knew what he really meant to ask was why I left the house in the middle of the night. But Peeta always remembered to conceal certain information in front of the cameras.

I looked at him tentatively.

I knew I needed to provide him with an explanation. He'd start to wonder when he saw our stash of food slowly diminishing.

"Come with me," I said taking a hold of his hand, and guiding him downstairs. I stopped when we had reached the landing, where we had a clear view of all the arbitrary packages of food that sat in our basement.

"We have so much food," I explained, looking up at him. "The people in the Seam need it more than we do."

I hoped he wouldn't object to my plan to redistribute the food in the Seam. I was taking a huge risk in giving away food to the mining families without the Capitol's consent. But I knew it was a risk worth taking.

Peeta glanced at the boxes of food and nodded his agreement.

"Some of these boxes look heavy," he remarked. "Do you need help carrying them?"

"No," I asserted. "I can manage."

I approached the large box I planned on carrying over to Greasy Sae's, and picked it up expertly, proving my ability to manage without his help.

I began climbing the stairs, and made it halfway up, when suddenly my head grew lightheaded. I suddenly remembered I still hadn't eaten any breakfast, and the long trek into the Seam and back had drained me of all my strength.

I felt my knees buckle under me, and instantly felt as if I was about to fall down the stairs, with the large box of food crashing down after me.

Before I lost complete control and allowed myself to come tumbling down, I felt a strong arm wrap around me and support me from behind.

"Don't worry, I've got you," I heard Peeta's familiar voice gently breathe into my ear.

He steadied my weakened frame, and once I had regained my composure, he gently eased the box from my grasp. He carried the box the rest of the flight up. I gripped the railing and once I had regained my strength I followed him upstairs.

When I reached the doorway, I saw him setting the box down on the floor.

"I still have some time before I have to go to work," he said. "Let's eat some breakfast, and then I'll help you carry it to the Seam."

"I can carry it myself," I replied defiantly.

"You can't carry it all the way to the Seam," he argued. "It's too heavy for you."

"You can't carry it either," I pointed out. "You still have those scratches on your arms. "

"They don't hurt anymore," he insisted. "I feel so much better since I took the bandages off."

I studied him for a moment. He did seem to be better.

_And I doubt I could carry the box all the way there on my own. _

"Alright," I conceded. "You can carry it until we get to the Seam. But I'll take it from there."

"Sounds good to me," he agreed with a shrug. "Come on, let's go eat."

"I'm not hungry," I replied.

"You'll need the strength if you plan on carrying that box into the Seam all by yourself," he persuaded.

That's when the smell of the delicious breakfast he had made finally hit me.

He was right. I could barely make my way up the stairs carrying the box. I would need to regain my strength before I could carry the box over to Greasy Sae's.

The strong smell of the food only grew more tempting as I stood there making up my mind.

"Alright," I said, finally giving in to my appetite.

"I made your favorite," he replied flashing a covert grin.

"Why?" I asked. It wasn't my birthday or any other special occasion.

"Well, you made me soup yesterday," he explained. "So, I thought I'd return the favor."

"Soup is your favorite?" I teased.

"Anything you make is my favorite," he answered.

I felt my face flush and instinctively lowered my gaze. I hated when he would flirt with me. It made me feel so uncomfortable.

"You're really bad at taking compliments," I heard him say with a chuckle.

When he was done laughing at me, he opened the oven to show me what he had made for breakfast.

Cheese buns. He was right. It was my favorite.

A smile automatically emerged on my face. Just the sight caused my stomach to growl softly in anticipation.

Peeta put on some gloves and bent down to remove the pan of cheese buns from the oven. As he did, I saw his silver pendant dangle down from his neck, unearthed from where it lay hidden underneath his shirt.

"You're wearing it again," I commented aloud, before I could catch myself.

"What?" he asked in a confused manner, as he held the pan out in front of him.

I gave a small smile and reached over to where his token lay against his chest.

Oh," he said automatically drawing his gaze down to where my fingers were. "That. I never leave my house without it."

I turned the pendant over in my fingers, glancing at it once more, before letting go. When I looked up, I caught him staring at me intently with a contemplative look on his face.

He hastily tore his gaze, setting the pan on a nearby counter, and then he continued his explanation. "It means a lot to me," he said.

"Justice?" I prodded light-heartedly.

"Yeah," he chuckled, smiling at me. "That, too."

"I wonder why," I stated, suggesting that an explanation was in order. I extracted two plates from the kitchen cabinet and placed them on the table.

"Does there have to be a reason?" he replied, taking off his gloves and placing a cheese bun on each plate.

"There usually is," I shrugged, sitting down at the table.

Peeta sat down next to me, and we both began eating as he thought of an answer.

"I don't know," he said finally. "The world just doesn't seem right without it."

"But there is no justice," I replied with a sullen shake of my head. "Not in this world."

Peeta chewed on his food, mulling over my opinion.

"It does seem like that sometimes," he admitted. "But then life goes and does something to prove me wrong."

"Like what?" I asked, immediately expecting him to turn to our victory in the games as proof.

I waited for Peeta to answer as he continued to scarf down his cheese bun.

"Take those boxes of food for example," he said when he was done. "There's enough to feed the entire district. Yet they're not meant to feed anyone else but us."

"They're not," I restated.

"But they will," he declared, instantly setting his piercing blue eyes on me. His gaze told me the words he dared not to utter.

That even if the Capitol wasn't willing to create Justice, the people of Panem still could.

"That seems like a bit of justice to me," Peeta concluded.

I automatically knew what he wanted to say to me. That despite everything the Capitol had taken away from the people, they still had the power to make their own decisions—the _right_ decisions.

Although he hadn't uttered a word of this to me, I finally understood what he meant. According to Peeta, we still had hope.

I gazed at him inadvertently throughout the rest of the meal, when he wasn't looking in my direction. I suddenly came to the realization that he was not at all what I had expected.


	44. Little Duck

**A/N**

**Why am I publishing so many chapters at once? Because I have finals, and I have an awful tendency to get distracted when I study, so this is the product of my laziness!**

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p>"It's really not that heavy," Peeta commented as he lifted the box off the ground.<p>

I just rolled my eyes at him. Of course, not all of us were bodybuilders who spent their entire lives lifting heavy bags of flour and bulking up for wrestling competitions.

I locked up the house, and then we started on our trek down from the Victor's Village.

To be honest, I was kind of grateful Peeta had offered to carry the box for me. I knew the box was too heavy for me to carry such a far distance on my own. But I was too proud to ask him myself.

"So where are you taking this box?" he asked just as we made our way past the gates that stood outside the Victor's Village.

"To the Hob," I answered. "I figure Greasy Sae can make more use of it than we can. She can definitely feed more people."

"The Hob is all the way on the other side of the Seam," he remarked, completely taking me by surprise. "That's too far for you to carry this box on your own. Let me do it for you."

"How do you know where the Hob is?" I asked, staring at him in astonishment.

"When you live in one district your whole life, you manage to learn a few things," he replied casually.

I shot him a suspicious glance, before quickly looking down at the paved path before me.

"It's a short distance to the Hob. I can handle it on my own." I hated having Peeta do things for me. It made me feel so utterly useless and weak.

And I definitely wasn't going to bring him to the Hob. I didn't feel like parading my Townie husband for all the miners to ridicule and judge me by. They'll think I've softened up and lost all my ability to provide for myself.

Especially if they see him carrying my trades into the Hob for me. They'll think I've become spoiled and overly dependent on my rich husband to do things for me that I always used to do on my own.

I always brought my trades into the Hob on my own. I never asked Gale or anyone else to help bring in my game or whatever else I had to trade.

I didn't want the miners in the Seam to think that being in the Capitol and getting married to a merchant had changed me. They already thought so low of my family as it was. I didn't want to provide any more reasons to bring shame and ridicule upon my family's name.

When we got to the border between the town and the Seam, Peeta asked me again if I was sure I didn't want him to carry the box all the way into the Seam. Once again I stubbornly turned down his request. He reluctantly handed me the box, and made sure I had a steady grip on it, before turning back and heading in the direction of the bakery.

The walk over to the Hob was a strenuous one, but it was a lot less exhausting than walking the entire distance all the way from the Victor's Village the way I had originally planned.

When I got to Greasy Sae's booth I was somewhat out of breath, and definitely relieved that I was finally able to let go of the box and set it on the ground.

"What'd you bring me today, Katniss?" the little old lady asked with a familiar smile on her benevolent face.

"Food," I breathed heavily, still somewhat exhausted by my journey there.

"I'm afraid I don't have enough to afford all of that," Greasy Sae lamented.

"You don't have to trade me anything for it," I insisted with a fervent shake of my head.

"Are you sure?" the startled old woman asked.

I gave a curt nod. There was nothing she could give me that I really needed. I already had so much. The only thing she could give me was the security that the starving families of the Seam would be fed.

"Just make sure it gets around to all the families."

"I will," she agreed with a sympathetic nod of her head.

Despite the promise Gale had made me, I knew I couldn't trust him to leave the animals he had caught in his snares and not try to profit off of them. It just wasn't in his nature.

"Did Gale come around here yesterday?" I asked hesitantly.

"He hasn't been here yet."

"Can you let me know if he does?"

"Sure, honey," Greasy Sae replied with a knowing smile adorned on her face.

"Thanks," I said giving a quick grin back before turning to leave.

I noticed the Hob was exactly as it was before. The peacekeepers hadn't gotten to this part of the Seam yet. The Hob had always been hidden well, and now the hunters and traders of the Seam made even more of an effort to be discreet about their actions and conceal the location of the Hob.

The Peacekeepers were more concerned about the merchants in town, and whether or not their shops were running smoothly. They didn't seem to care too much about the mining families in the Seam. They knew the starvation, coal pollution and harsh mining conditions would kill us off naturally, so they didn't bother wasting their time on us.

_And if we got too out of line, they could always set off the bombs they kept under the mines. To teach us a lesson, as President Snow said._

My blood boiled at the thought of my father dying for such an arbitrary cause.

I looked down at my ring finger, and had a strong urge to pull off the two rings that sat there, taunting me with their awful memories. I hated how I let the Capitol take control of me.

They always had control over my living situation. They made sure my father had died, and my family lived in starvation. They made sure my sister never had anything more than a dirty, second hand dress to wear and a ragged pair of shoes. They corrupted my soul when they forced me to kill people to ensure my own survival in their twisted and cruel society.

I endured all that without a question. But what I hated most of all was the amount of control I let them have over my private life. I always thought the one thing they couldn't take away from me was my decision to never get married and never have children. I thought I could beat the system by not allowing the Capitol to exploit my children the way they had exploited me.

But it seems they had taken away _that_ freedom too.

They forced me into a marriage, and now they were trying to force me to have children.

I stared ominously at the two symbols of my submission and allegiance to the Capitol; I wanted nothing more than to yank them off and throw them at a nearby camera.

I immediately resisted the urge to do so, knowing that my impulsive act of rebellion would only cost my district even more grief than they were already accustomed to.

I took out my keys as I approached my mother's house in the Seam. After I entered, I silently closed the door behind me. It was still early in the morning, so my mom was probably still sleeping, as was my sister.

I heard a violent hissing noise come from below me. It was Buttercup. I glared at the hideous looking cat, before stalking off quietly to my old bedroom.

I noticed the door had been left slightly ajar. I peeked in from the doorway and a smile instantly materialized on my face as I looked at my sister curled up in a sleeping position, with a stuffed toy she grasped firmly in her hands, almost as if she wished to protect it from the harshness of the world.

I remember when I used to hold her like that.

When we were younger I used to share that bed with her. My father wanted to build me a bed of my own, but there was nowhere we could put it since the house was so small. So I shared a bed with Prim. When I got older, I slept on the couch.

Now that I was gone, she had the bed all to herself. Yet she continued to take up as little space on the bed as she could manage, always making room for her big sister. Sometimes, when I got lonely sleeping on the couch by myself, I would come back to my old room and join her.

I quietly padded over to her bed and squatted down beside her. I pushed a few strands of blonde hair from her sweet, peaceful face as she continued to indulge in her dreams.

Whenever I felt I couldn't take the pressure of this harsh, cruel world, she was always there to lift my spirits. After my father died, I was so hopeless. I was angry at the world, for taking him away from me. I felt numbed by the pain of losing someone who was so important to me. I hardly had the will to live anymore.

But Prim was so young, so young that she didn't really understand why she had to be sad or even angry.

She was upset in the first couple of weeks following my father's death, but she wasn't numbed by sorrow the way my mother and I had been.

She would occasionally break out of the quiet spell of sorrow that plagued our household and jump around jubilantly, encouraging my mom and I to join her in her cheerful games.

Of course, my mom wouldn't join her because she was so deadened by her feelings for my father. After losing him, she completely shut herself off from the world, instead opting to live inside her head. I could tell by the glazed look in her eyes that she was no longer with us, instead she was off in some other world—perhaps in world where she could still be with my father.

Despite my mother's unresponsiveness, I couldn't help but give in to Prim's naturally high-spirited personality. She always had a way of persuading me to join her in her frivolous games.

I remember one time when I had come home from another failed attempt at begging for scraps of food from the merchant families.

_Just as soon as I got home, I plopped down on the couch._

_I'm so useless, I thought to myself. I can't do anything right. Not even beg for food._

"_Katniss! You're back!" cried Prim as she came running towards me. "Did you get anything?"_

"_No," I replied angrily._

"_It's alright," she responded in her usually chirpy voice. "You'll get something tomorrow."_

"_But what will we eat tonight?" I cried out, furious at myself._

"_We can pick fresh leaves from the garden!" she said referring to the mangily old weeds that grew in our front yard._

_I shook my head. "That's not enough to fill us up, Prim."_

"_It's enough for me," she said before bursting into a happy smile and tugging on my arm. "Let's go play with Buttercup!"_

"_No, I don't want to play right now, Prim."_

"_Why not?" she asked poking her bottom lip out at me._

"_Because I don't want to."_

"_Come on, I taught Buttercup how to dance," she said, tugging on my sleeve persistently. "I want to show you!"_

"_I don't want to see Buttercup," I said fuming at the sound of his name, as if he were the source of all my troubles. "I hate that cat!"_

"_No, you don't!" Prim argued. "You're just saying that now because you're upset!"_

"_I'm not upset," I lied._

"_Then why do you have a big frown on your face?" she asked._

"_Because that's how I smile," I retorted._

"_No, it's not," she declared. "This is how you smile!" she shouted as she poked me in my belly, making me instantly double over with laughter._

"_See, now you're not upset anymore," she said proudly, as if she had cured me of all my problems, simply by provoking one moment of laughter in my life._

_But in a way, she did._

When Peeta told me he was ticklish, he immediately reminded me of my sister. It surprised me that someone who looked as strong and able-bodied as Peeta was really just as sensitive as my defenseless younger sister.

But although the first time I tickled Peeta was out of pure curiosity, the second time was a calculated step made to incite a specific reaction from him.

Because thinking of my innocent little sister, also reminded me of what I had to lose.

And what I had to do to keep her in my life.

_I had to seduce Peeta._

I knew that if I tickled him, he would want to tickle me back. So I let him.

I let him put his hands on me, I let him put me on his lap, and I almost let him kiss me.

I could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to. But I couldn't let myself do it.

I couldn't trick him again.

I knew that the cameras were watching us in the kitchen, and I _should_ let him kiss me.

But I didn't want to kiss him for the cameras anymore.

Peeta was right. We were no longer pawns in their sick, twisted game. We didn't have to play by the Capitol's rules. We didn't have to give them the satisfaction of knowing they could control us even _beyond_ the arena.

I sat there near my sister's bed, stroking her lovely strands of golden hair. I really hoped Peeta's plan would work.

Because after I start taking those pills next week, there will be no chance of me getting pregnant anymore. I'd have to think of another way to save her.

I let out a despondent sigh. I really hoped I could save her.

I gently shook her from her sleep. "Wake up, Little Duck."

There was only one person that could lift my spirits from the sordid state I was in, and that was Prim.

"Wake up," I whispered again, rousing her from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and she groggily turned to look at me.

"I want to sleep a little longer," she mumbled drowsily.

"You've already slept through most of the morning. It's time to get up," I replied.

"I don't want to get up," she groaned softly, hugging her toy closer to her chest.

"You'll be late for school," I warned.

"But we always get there early anyways," she protested.

"The early bird gets the worm," I reminded her, repeating the phrase my father would always use.

"But I don't want to get any worms!" she whined.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Come on, get out of bed. Or I'll tickle you."

I knew she hated when I would do that, because it was the one sure way I could definitely get her out of bed.

"No, you're not," she quickly protested, betraying her guise of drowsiness.

"Yes, I am," I exclaimed brushing my fingers across her belly.

She instantly broke into a fit of giggles.

"Okay, okay, I'll get up," she cried in between loud bursts of joyous laughter.

"Alright. Now go put your clothes on, and I'll make you some breakfast."

"Are we going to Madge's house today?" she asked in her usually peppy voice.

"No," I replied resolutely. "You have to go to school."

"But she invited us," she whined as she got out of her bed.

"We don't go to the Mayor's house," I maintained steadfastly.

"But if she invites us, that means we can go!" she proclaimed.

We never went to Madge's house before. When I took Prim out into town last Friday, we ran into Madge. She told us we could come over to her house if we wanted to.

I had never been to her house before and I never intended to go. We were never really that close. I hadn't even expected her to come see me before the Games started. To be honest, I didn't think anyone aside from Gale and Prim would even care that I was reaped.

"Please, please, please! Can we go?" Prim pleaded, making her eyes grow wide in an effort to persuade me. She knew that always worked on me.

"Fine," I gave in with a reluctant sigh. "We can go after school. But hurry up and get dressed so we won't be late!"


	45. Schoolyard

I stood outside in the crowded schoolyard and waited to pick up Prim at our old meeting spot.

Being a Victor, I didn't have to go to school anymore. But everyday, I made sure I picked up my little sister. I knew I didn't have to, since she was already old enough to walk home by herself, but I wanted to.

When I got reaped I thought I'd never see her again. I thought I'd never get to walk her home from school again.

Now that I came back, it felt good knowing that I could meet her at our old meeting spot, in a corner outside the double doors of our school, and walk home with her just like I used to. I liked knowing that at least some amount of normalcy remained in our lives.

I was grateful that Peeta left me alone during the week, so I could go home and take care of my sister. So I could pretend like nothing changed.

Perhaps Peeta needed that same kind of stability too. Maybe that's why he was so eager to run off to the bakery in the mornings and chose to spend most of his days at his mother's house. Maybe he wished things hadn't changed either. That everything stayed the same. That the Games never happened.

Amidst the crowd of students swarming into the schoolyard, I saw a glimmer of blonde hair shining in the distance.

But this wasn't the familiar golden hair that was braided down my sister's back.

Instead, the girl that drew my gaze was a lot older than my quivering little sister, and her green eyes glistened with a confidence that only spoke of years living in the comforts of a merchant home.

Her hair was a paler shade of blonde than my sister's, and fell down her back majestically. She stood among a group of friends all with a similar shade of blonde hair. I didn't even realize I was looking for her, until my eyes inadvertently fell on her.

_Valerie._

I wondered what Peeta saw in her, beyond her gorgeous locks of hair and her dazzling smile. I remembered seeing them holding hands at school, and wondered what their relationship was like. If he taught her to bake, and built her things just the way he did for me. Or if he kissed her the same way he kissed me.

I wondered how he could have possibly loved me if he was with her for so long.

Perhaps it had been an arranged marriage that had drawn them together. But after all the time he spent with her, he must have developed some feelings for her.

I wondered if he still missed her sometimes. If he regretted leaving her bright smile in exchange for my dark scowl, and my cold demeanor.

I quickly tore my gaze away and found that a group of Seam kids had been looking in my direction. But I was used to their stares.

They always regarded me as an oddity. First, they'd look at me that way because they knew my mother was a Townie. She wasn't welcome in the Seam. And neither was I.

Later, they stared at me out of curiosity because they knew I was the only girl in the Seam who had managed to get past the barbed wires and into the woods. Unlike many others who had failed, I actually managed to bring back game from my trips to the woods and traded it at the merchant shops in town.

Now, the Seam children weren't the only ones staring at me. I felt Townies staring at me too. Perhaps out of fear. They knew what I was capable of. How many children I had killed. How much blood I had spilled.

Or maybe, they just pitied me. For being weak. For falling in love with my district partner, when I really should have killed him.

I told myself I didn't _care_ what they thought about me. But I always found myself wondering anyways.

Suddenly, I spotted my sister in a large crowd of students. She was standing with a few girls that she knew from class. She said goodbye to them and hurried over to where I stood.

"Hi Katniss!" she shouted as she rushed towards me.

"Hi, Little Duck," I said, greeting her with a smile.

"I'm not little anymore," she whined.

"Then why do you whine so much?"

"Because I don't like that name."

"Well, then what else do you want me to call you? Big duck?"

"No," she replied with a pout. "You know, you don't have to pick me up from school anymore. I'm almost thirteen."

"Not for another week, you're not."

I instinctively took her hand in my mine and held it protectively.

"After next week, can I walk home by myself?"

"No."

"Why not?"

It wasn't safe for her. After the threat President Snow made on her life, I couldn't just leave her to roam the streets on her own.

_What if she got attacked by a Peackeeper on her way back home?_

I couldn't live with myself if I let her get hurt.

"Why not?" she repeated again.

"It's a long walk back to the Seam," I insisted.

"But all my friends live in the Seam. I can walk home with them!"

I shook my head. "It's getting too dangerous in this district. We have to stick together."

I clung tighter to her hand.

She gave up fighting me and gave a disgruntled sigh.

After walking in silence for a moment, her face suddenly brightened up again.

"We're going to Madge's house today right?"

I hoped she had forgotten. I really didn't want to go to Madge's house.

_The closer you get to people, the more you have to lose._

"You have to do your homework," I reminded her.

"I'll do it there," she countered back hurriedly. "I promise!"

"It's rude to go to someone house and do your homework."

"But I need help anyways!"

"I'll help you," I offered, despite knowing how horrible I was at anything remotely academic.

"Alright, fine," she conceded. "Do you know anything about district twelve's tax laws?"

"No."

"See? I knew it! Can we go ask Madge?"

"I can still help you find the answer in the book."

"But I have to write a paper on it."

Writing was definitely not my strong suit. I always figured I wouldn't need to know how to write well, since my trade of choice was hunting, and there's no way writing could ever help me catch game.

"Please?" Prim persisted. "She's the smartest girl in school! She can help me!"

That was definitely true. When I was failing most of my classes, Madge had been the one to help me.

"Alright," I gave in reluctantly. "We'll go."


	46. Madge's House

I rang the doorbell to Mayor Undersee's house.

I looked over at Prim and noticed she was anxiously smoothing over the pleats on her blue dress, trying to make herself look more presentable.

The door swung open, and Madge's familiar round face appeared in the doorway. Her curly locks of blonde hair hung down to her waist, where her brown dress clung close to her curves. I could tell by the clothes she had on she had just returned from school.

"Hi, Madge!" Prim immediately burst upon seeing her face.

"Hi!" Madge exclaimed in a tone of surprise. "You guys made it!"

"We did," I replied.

"Well, there's no reason for you to wait outside in the cold," she said welcoming us with a warm grin. "Come on in."

Madge guided us into her home, which I noticed was much larger and more lavish than Peeta's. The walls were lined with intricate gold carvings and framed portraits of family members.

The floors and furniture was just as spotless as it was in the Mellarks' home, but definitely of a higher caliber. I could tell the wood they used was more expensive, and all their furniture had been shipped in exclusively from the Capitol.

Prim oohed and aahed over everything she saw and badgered Madge with a million questions. I just continued taking in all my surroundings.

I noticed that everything in the house seemed neatly organized, just as I would expect it to be in the Mayor's house. I heard they had a woman from the Seam come in once a week and clean their house. I also heard they had another woman come in and teach Madge how to cook. From my very few conversations with Madge I knew that her mother wasn't capable of completing any household duties on her own, and her father was always out on Capitol business.

"I'm glad you guys decided to come today," she remarked as she led us to the living room. "My father's out on Capitol business and it gets a bit lonely being home with just my mother."

"But doesn't your mother have all those incredible stories to tell?" Prim replied excitedly, as if she were waiting for Madge to start telling one of her stories.

"She does, but she just sleeps most of the time," Madge replied with a laugh.

She knew about her mother's stories from me. Every now and then Madge would tell me the stories her mother told her, and I would relate them back to Prim. Being the curious child she often is, Prim always asked me how I knew. Most of the time, my answer was that Madge had told me.

It was no wonder Prim was so excited to finally get to meet Madge. She was the originator of all her favorite stories.

"Can you tell me a story now?" Prim pleaded after we had taken our seats on the couch.

"You have to do your homework first," I reminded.

"I don't want to do my homework," Prim replied with a pout.

"Why not?" Madge asked softly.

"It's too hard."

"That's okay. I'll help you," Madge offered. "What's your homework on?"

"I have to write an essay on Tax laws and why they're good for the districts prosperity."

"Alright, then why don't you take out your book, and I'll help you find the answers."

"I left my book at home," Prim muttered sheepishly.

I instantly cast a stern look in her direction.

_She told me she was going to do her homework at the Undersee's house, and she doesn't even have her book with her! I can't believe she lied to me._

Prim recoiled her tiny body underneath my disapproving glance.

"That's okay," Madge piped up immediately alleviating the tension in the room. "I have a Tax Law book you can use. I'll go get it for you."

I spent a month's worth of hunting money buying Prim's school books every year. Asking someone else to loan her the books was embarrassing. It made it look like I couldn't afford them for her.

"Why did you lie to me?" I asked her sternly once Madge had left the room.

"I didn't. I forgot," Prim protested anxiously. "I only remembered that I didn't have my book when we got here."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you would make us go straight home."

I hardly ever let my sister go over to other people's houses. I was very protective of her. Besides the Hawthornes, I didn't trust anybody else. So if her friends wanted to play, I always made her ask them to come over to our house instead.

"We could've come by later," I compromised. "After you finished your homework."

"Then you would say it's too late to go into town," she argued. "Because of the new curfew the Peacekeepers set up."

I sighed. "You should have told me. I would have let you do your homework later on, when we came back home from Madge's house. We don't have to borrow anyone's books."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. She understood how important it was to me to be able to provide for my family on my own. She knew how much I hated taking on debts.

"It's okay," I replied gently stroking her hair.

When Madge came back she explained the homework assignment to Prim.

She give Prim a pencil and paper to write with and then relocated her to the kitchen table, where it would be easier for her to compose her essay.

"Katniss and I are going to go upstairs, so you can do your homework in peace. I'll be down in a little bit to check on you. If you need help, you're welcome to go up. My room's the first door on the left."

Prim looked down at the blank page in front of her and made a face.

"You'll tell me a story after I'm done?" Prim looked up at Madge, negotiating with her.

"Yes," Madge agreed with a laugh. "I promise."

We went upstairs to her room. The first thing I noticed about her room was that there were no cameras there. That was a relief. The rest of the house was decorated with cameras from wall to wall.

The second thing I noticed about her room was that everything was purple. Even the curtains. She had about a dozen throw pillows lying on her soft, lavish bed. She had a desk in one corner, adorned with a neat stack of papers and books. Near the desk, stood a large bookshelf that held more books than I had ever seen.

_It was impossible to get books in District Twelve. The last bookshop was closed down fifty years ago._

"You sure have a lot of books," I commented as I continued gazing at the extensive collection she had in her room.

"Yeah, I do," she replied casually. "My dad brings me a book every time he goes to the Capitol."

"He's gone on quite a lot of trips to the Capitol."

"Yeah," she chuckled her agreement. "He's gone most of the time," she continued in a somber tone. She plopped down on her bed. "These books keep me company while he's gone."

_It makes sense that Madge's father got books from his trips to the Capitol, but where did Peeta get all those books he kept hidden in his secret room?_

"Sit down," Madge proposed motioning to an empty chair facing her.

"How's your mother doing?" I asked, once I had sat down.

"The usual," she said with a shrug. "How's your mom? Has she been improving?"

"She's getting better, slowly. She's been making progress ever since I got back. But Prim says she still doesn't recognize me when I'm on TV."

Madge chuckled lightly and smiled. "Is she healing again?"

"She is. She's been treating more patients than usual in the last couple of months. She's teaching Prim to be her second in command."

"I think she'll be a great healer," she remarked. "She's definitely got the brains for it."

"And she isn't squeamish like me," I added.

"I still can't believe someone who kills animals for a living is as squeamish as you are," she teased.

"I'm good at injuring animals, not fixing them up," I corrected.

"You did a pretty good job with Peeta," she said referring to the time I had patched up his wounds in the arena. I still forgot from time to time that everybody in the district had witnessed every moment I had shared with him.

"I did a terrible job. He lost his leg because of me."

"His leg looks fine now," she coaxed. "He isn't limping or anything."

"That wasn't me," I said. "That was the Capitol working its magic."

"How's everything between you guys anyways?"

"It's alright, I guess," I replied with a shrug. I didn't really know how to answer her question. Fortunately, there were no cameras in her bedroom, so I didn't have to pretend as if we were madly in love and having the time of our lives.

"Is it hard living with him?"

"No," I answered honestly. "I do miss living with my family sometimes, but he makes everything—so simple."

My thoughts immediately raced back to the night we spent baking the pie. I thought about how he had made me believe, if only just for a moment, that life could really be that simple and carefree. I was surprised at how the memory suddenly caused my heart to speed up.

I wondered if Valerie liked that about him too. I wondered if he made her feel the same way he made _me_ feel.

I furrowed my eyebrows in agitation, and I suppose Madge was able to read the look of discontent expressed on my face, because she suddenly asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said giving my usual reply.

"Are you sure? You can tell me if you want to. No one can hear us in here."

I desperately wanted to know more about Valerie. I needed to know _why_ she was so rude to me. I couldn't help but think there was still something between her and Peeta when he began 'courting' me in the Games. I realized since Madge was also a merchant girl, my best chance of getting information about her would be now.

"Do you know Valerie?" I asked hesitantly.

"I know her, but I don't talk to her much."

"She used to date Peeta right?"

She cast her gaze down briefly and then gave a sullen nod. "They were arranged to get married."

"But they didn't."

Madge shook her head to affirm my statement.

"Was it—because of the Games?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"No," she answered shaking her head fervently. "They broke up long before the Games."

"Did she ever tell you why?"

"She told everybody why," Madge scoffed. "But I don't think I believe her. Not anymore."

"What did she say?"

"It doesn't matter," she said avoiding my question. "There were a lot of rumors about why they broke up. But it's obvious now the reason he broke up with her was because he had feelings for you."

_Its obvious based on what she saw in the Games. But what if he was lying? I had to know the reason for their breakup from Valerie's perspective._

"I want to know what she said," I insisted. I didn't get why Madge was trying so hard to hide it from me.

She hesitated for a moment before finally replying.

"She said that he was deranged," she admitted. "Everybody believed her until the Games. That's when everybody realized he was just in love with another girl. After that, she became the laughingstock of the town."

_That explains why she was so mean to me._

"But why would people believe that about him?"

"I guess because of the way he acted after the Games ended two years ago," she said with a shrug.

"You mean when he stopped coming to school?"

She gave a quick nod. "He really distanced himself from everybody. There were rumors about him. People thought he had gone mad."

"Did he?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't think so. It made sense—the way he acted. It's hard to lose someone to the Games. My mother is proof of that."

"Who did he lose?"

She stayed silent for a moment, eyeing me with a look of surprise adorned on her face.

"You don't know?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I know he lost some of his cousins. But not that year."

"I can't believe he hasn't told you yet," she whispered in astonishment.

"Told me what?"

She automatically shook her head refusing to tell me. "It's better if you hear it from him rather than me."

The moment got rather uncomfortable. I couldn't believe that Madge knew more about Peeta than I did. I thought I knew everything there was to know about the boy with the bread. I had watched him closely for the past four years. What did Madge know about him that I didn't?


	47. The Mayor's Office

Peeta was my husband, and yet I knew less about him than Madge, someone who was barely even his friend.

Now I knew why he hated the Games so much. Why he appeared so sullen and distraught after the Games had ended a couple of years ago, so much that he even stopped coming in to school.

He had lost someone close to him that year. Maybe a relative. Maybe brother or sister I hadn't been aware of.

Whoever he had lost, it's obvious it had a tremendous impact on him. And it happened only two years before he was reaped to play in the Games himself.

I couldn't believe he never told me.

But I guess that's because I never asked. I never _wanted_ to get to know him better.

I thought I had already figured him out.

But I didn't.

Apparently, I didn't know him at all.

Madge stared at me with a stunned expression on her face. I could tell she was slowly coming to the same realization. That the star crossed lovers weren't as madly in love as the media portrayed them to be. That in reality, they barely even knew each other. That their love, their wedding, everything was all just a hoax hand crafted by the Capitol and magnified by the media.

The silence in the room became unbearable.

"Where's your bathroom?" I asked, in an attempt to escape the sudden awkwardness that followed our brief conversation.

"It's down the hall, to your right," Madge replied.

I got up and hurried out of the room. I entered the long corridor and walked past a series of doors until I reach the very end. I found the door to my right and barged right in, instinctively locking the door behind me. It wasn't until I turned around that I realized I wasn't in the bathroom.

Instead, I was in another corridor that was smaller in size and led to only one door.

That must be the bathroom, I decided.

I walked right up to the door, and swung it open. To my surprise, I didn't find myself standing in a bathroom. Instead, I was surrounded by mahogany walls, adorned with plaques and a number of shelves that held a large assortment of books.

My eyes quickly glanced over a large desk and an armchair that sat squarely in the middle of the room. I gulped just as soon as I realized where I was. The Mayor's office.

_I shouldn't be here._

I was just about to leave the room when I heard a soft voice urgently calling out behind me. I turned in the direction of the noise and noticed that the TV was on. The voice I heard belonged to a woman on the screen who was talking hurriedly in a panicked voice as a series of events unfolded behind her. Judging by her extravagant clothing, eye-catching make up, and the microphone she held in her hand, I could tell she was an announcer from the Capitol, relaying a message that definitely wasn't meant for me to hear.

_But if the mayor had gone out of town, then why had he left his TV on?_

Perhaps the television always stayed on, I reasoned, just like when the Games came on during the summer. The Capitol programmed our televisions so that not even a single moment of bloodshed could be missed by the millions of viewers all across the districts.

I knew there were probably cameras in the room and I should leave immediately, but I couldn't help but be drawn to the woman on the screen, whose voice was now speeding up and gradually growing more and more frightened.

The images on the screen quickly caught my attention as well. They were images of people running uncontrollably through a scorched, demolished town, wielding crowbars and axes, and every other weapon they could find, against a band of heavily armed Peacekeepers.

These were images of complete and utter chaos.

They were images of an uprising.

The woman on the screen announced that the images had been taken in District 8.

_District 8._

_That's the district Bonnie and Twill are from!_

_So they weren't lying._ There really was a rebellion going on.

The camera cut back to the anchorwoman who was sitting comfortably in a newscasting room, beside her co-anchor who was dressed in an outfit that was equally as bizarre as hers.

"Well, they better watch out or they'll be gone for good" he warned. "Just like District 13."

"Yes, just like 13," quipped his co-anchor forcefully, as the screen automatically switched to a video of a demolished looking town.

It was the first time I had ever laid eyes on District 13. I heard stories about it. Even dreamed about it sometimes. But I had never seen it before, not with my own two eyes.

It was exactly as I had pictured it in my dreams. An entire district in ruins. Desolate. Barren.

An entire population destroyed because of their brave attempt to rebel against the Capitol's oppressive regime.

Now, not even a single soul stirred in the demolished remains of the long forgotten city.

"We had um—district two take over their trade, isn't that right?"

"Oh yes, they took on their new trade rather quickly," the anchorwoman replied. "In fact, we had doubled production rates that year. And it's been booming ever since."

"The rebels of 13 were all defeated. The district was demolished. And no more was heard of them ever since."

"Yes, it was quite a glorious day for the Capitol."

"It truly, truly was," the anchorman lauded before continuing. "We could do the same here, in district 8."

"Oh, absolutely. I'm sure district 4 would be happily relieved of knotting all their fishnets and start sewing up some fishnet stockings instead!"

The other anchor laughed patronizingly.

"Well, that's all there is to it, then. After all this is over, we'll outsource the textiling business to another district, and we'll be set. We'll be tripling production rates by June."

"No doubt about that, Marsyus," answered the woman with a smile, all the fear wiped clean off her artificially constructed face.

The message was clear.

If any district dared to rebel against the Capitol it would be squashed down immediately with an iron hand. Its trade would be passed on to another district, one that was more willing to succumb to the pressure of the Capitol's undying abuse.

The Capitol didn't need us. They didn't care about the millions of lives they destroyed so long as they had millions more to exploit.

And the Capitol could wipe us out in an instant, without even a moment's hesitation.

District 13 was proof of that.

The entire district was laid to waste because of their rebellious efforts. Because they dared to go against the Capitol. And now, nothing lived, nothing remained among the ashes of the long forgotten district.

Except for a bird, which I noticed on the top edge of the screen. I scoffed. From the stories I heard about District 13 I knew that a series of bombs were dropped on their town. The bombs were so potent that they set off a radioactive ring around the district, which was lethal enough to kill off any living creature that came within a mile radius of the desolated warzone.

Yet birds still dared to fly in the region. I shook my head.

Then, I looked at the screen again.

I noticed the only thing that moved on the screen besides the bird was the smoke rising up from the ashes.

_But if the city was bombed so long ago, then why was smoke still rising from its remains?_

Suddenly, I noticed that the bird on the top right corner never truly left the screen. It just entered and re-entered the screen, repeating the same motions over and over again.

My eyes widened in surprise as I suddenly came to a realization.

_It was a repeated image! Just like on the cameras that Gale had fixed!_

My heart pounded as soon as the thought came to me.

I quickly darted out of the room, rushing past the small corridor, and into the larger one from where I first started.

I instantly ran into the room directly across from where I stood. I bolted the door shut, and turned to find that I was finally in the bathroom.

I leaned against the bathroom door and panted. I was relieved to have escaped the Mayor's office. I was sure there were hidden cameras in that room. I hoped I hadn't stayed there too long. I didn't want to give off the impression that my visit to his office had been anything but an accident.

It truly was an accident. I hadn't intended on finding myself in his office. Madge had told me the bathroom was down the hall and to the right. Those were the exact directions that I took. But instead of finding myself in the bathroom, I found myself in her father's private office.

The bathroom was located right across the hall from her father's office. It was down the hall and to the left. Not right.

But why would Madge give me the wrong directions in a house she has lived in all her life?

Maybe it was an accident.

Or maybe, Madge wanted me to find her father's office. Maybe she wanted me to see what I did. After all, the TV was already on when I got there.

Maybe there was something being broadcast on the TV that she wanted me to see. That she couldn't tell me herself.

I gulped. Perhaps she wanted me to know that there were uprisings in the districts. Uprisings that were started because of me. Because I refused to kill my district partner. Because I unwittingly defied the Capitol.

But could she have possibly known that the Capitol's video depicting District 13's complete annihilation was nothing more than a fixed image? That if the video the Capitol showed wasn't an accurate depiction of the abandoned district in its present state, then maybe there was hope that the district still lived on?

If district 13 still existed, then Bonnie and Twill still had a chance of getting there.

I had met Bonnie and Twill in the forest a couple weeks ago. They were two runaways from District 8 who had told me there had been an uprising in their district. They told me the Capitol had bombed the town shortly after they had escaped.

They told me their district had rebelled because of _me_.

At the time, I didn't believe them. I didn't _want_ to believe them.

President Snow had said that if any of the districts got out of hand, it would be my fault, and consequently, my own district would get punished. It was my duty to make sure that the districts were quieted and remained obedient. An uprising in District 8 would only mean that my efforts to quiet the districts had failed. My marriage to Peeta, my on screen romance with him, all of that would be for nothing.

So I didn't want to believe them when they told me that there had been an uprising in their district.

But I had no choice but to believe them now.

I sighed and walked over to the sink. I gripped the edges of the sink in an effort to compose myself. I gazed at my own reflection in the mirror, as I contemplated about what I should do now that I knew for sure that the rebellion had started.

The first I thing I knew I had to do was get Bonnie and Twill to District 13. I had to know what lied there, before I made my next move. Besides, they weren't safe living out in the woods. Not with all the new Peacekeepers the Capitol kept sending into District 12.

Then I remembered the tracker on my arm.

It no longer burned, but it left a garish mark on my forearm nevertheless. And now, because of Haymitch's honesty, I knew it was there. I knew that the Capitol was watching my every move.

I couldn't travel all the way to District 13 without having the Capitol know where I was.

I began pacing the room.

I couldn't guide Bonnie and Twill all the way to District 13 on my own.

But I had to get them there. I had to know what was left of the renegade town. Maybe they could help shelter some of our people. Or even help us start a rebellion of our own.

I could tell Gale. He would be able to take them there, the entire way. He knew the woods just as well as I did. So I knew he'd come back, no matter what the costs were, and tell me what he had found.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

I couldn't wait to tell Gale. He would be so ecstatic to know there was a chance that the only district that ever rebelled against the Capitol might have actually made it through.

That there was something beyond these stifling district walls, and beyond the Capitol's control. A place where we could escape with our families and possibly even find shelter for them.

I needed to tell him as soon as possible. I decided I would tell him on Sunday. I would have to skip our meeting at his mother's house, and meet him in the woods instead.

There's no way I could let him know of the plan change in advance. Not with all the cameras in his house.

I would have to go to the woods myself, and wait for him to turn up. I knew he would eventually. He wouldn't miss a chance to go into the woods on his day off.

I was suddenly glad I had gone to Madge's house. Who knew I would find information that was so vital to the rebellion just by going to her house?

With a satisfied smile on my face I went downstairs, and as soon as I did I heard a sweet melody coming from the living room.

I found Prim sitting by the piano as she eagerly watched Madge's fingers skim across a long succession of black and white keys. I suppose Madge had already checked Prim's homework and even told her a story by then.

I sat down beside Prim and listened to the song as it filled up the room with its lovely rhythm.

"Can you teach me how to play?" Prim asked when she was done.

"Sure, I can," Madge answered. "But I have to warn you. It takes a lot of hard work."

"It's okay, I'm not afraid of hard work," Prim replied with an eager look on her face.

"Maybe another day," I cut in. "It's getting late, Prim. We should get going."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Madge asked politely.

I shook my head. "Curfew."

"Oh, right," Madge answered sheepishly. She had forgotten about the curfew because she lived on the merchant side of town. The curfew didn't apply to her. It only applied to the mining families in the Seam. We couldn't go into town past six o'clock.

"Maybe next time?" Madge proposed. "We'll have lunch and then I can teach Prim how to play the piano."

"Oh, yes, I'd love that," Prim squeaked with enthusiasm. She stole a quick glance at me before continuing in a softer tone.

"I'll bring Lady's cheese," she offered. She knew I wouldn't let her have a lunch at the Undersee's house without bringing something in return.

"I can't wait to try some," Madge replied.

"Well, we really need to get going now," I said, readying out winter coats and boots for our departure.

Both Prim and I pulled on our winter gear and were ready to leave within minutes.

Just as we were about to leave, I took Madge aside, and whispered, "Thanks. For everything."

I still wasn't sure if Madge had intended to guide me into her father's private study when she had given me the wrong directions to the bathroom. But I was glad she did. If it wasn't for her mistake, then I would have never found out about the uprising in District 8, and discovered that the footage from District 13 was nothing more than a fixed tape.

"No problem," she replied with an ambiguous smile on her face. "Come again."

"Bye," Prim yelled as we made our way out the door. She continued waving her hand enthusiastically at Madge, as she pranced along beside me in the thick layer of snow that covered the ground.

I stole a quick glance back at the Undersee's manor and noticed Madge was standing at the front door waving back at us. I gazed at the elated expression on Prim's happy, innocent face, and upon seeing a Peacekeeper walking by only a few yards away from us, I intuitively took Prim's little hand in mine.

Together, Prim and I trudged home in the snow and made it back to the Seam before six.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**So in my AU of Catching Fire, Katniss meets Bonnie and Twill _before_ she sees the news broadcast in the Mayor's office. The news they bring about the uprising in District 8 is confirmed when she sees the broadcast. I hope this change in events doesn't confuse you too much! c:**


	48. Bonnie and Twill

The next day, I went to the woods to tell Bonnie and Twill what I saw at Madge's house.

When I first met the two runaways they told me they were determined to get to District 13 as soon as they could. At the time, I didn't believe that the district existed, so I thought their search would be in vain.

I convinced them to stay in the woods instead, in a cabin nearby a lake that my father had found when I was a child.

The cabin was located deep enough in the woods to keep the refugees safe from the Peacekeepers who regularly patrolled the gates outside the forest. I made sure to visit them every week, to check up on them and supply them with food and clothes.

I rapped my knuckles softly against the cabin door, creating a rhythm of exactly three series of three short knocks, which we had agreed upon as our secret code. As soon as the succession was completed, the door was opened by a pale faced young girl who had a strawberry colored birthmark right above one of her gentle brown eyes.

"Katniss!" she greeted me enthusiastically.

"Hi, Bonnie," I replied. "I brought some food," I added lifting up a pair of squirrels I had shot earlier.

She grimaced in response to the odor of the dead animals hanging from my grasp and opened the door a little wider to let me in. "Katniss is here," she announced in a loud voice as she walked into the house.

"I know, I know," remarked an older woman from the other room. "I can hear everything from in here."

"Hi, Twill," I replied as I waltzed into the kitchen. A woman who looked to be about my mother's age, stood above the stove busy preparing a meal.

"Hello, Katniss, dear," she said, turning to greet me with a warm smile.

I placed the two squirrels on the counter, along with a food package I had brought from my house in the Victor's Village.

"How've you been?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I've been fine," I answered giving my usual reply. She gave another smile, and wrapped her arms around me in a warm embrace. As she pulled me in closer to her, I could smell my mother's familiar scent on her clothes.

When Bonnie and Twill had first arrived in District Twelve, they were dressed from head to toe in traditional Peacekeeper gear. At first I thought they were officers of the law and had almost shot an arrow in their direction. But then I found out that they were just refugees who had run away from their home district. They told me they stole the uniforms, piece by piece, from a textile factory they used to work in back in District 8.

I could tell just by looking at them that the military uniforms they wore were very heavy and uncomfortable, so I offered them some of my own clothes. But the clothes that Cinna had custom designed to fit me didn't fit either one of them. So I rummaged through my old closet back at my mom's house, and found some clothes that would suit them better. My old clothes fit Bonnie just perfectly. They definitely fit her a lot better than they fit Prim. And Prim no longer needed my old hand-me-downs since I was buying her new clothes almost every other day.

Then I rummaged through my mother's closet and gave Twill some of my mother's old frocks to wear, as well as an apron that I knew my mom no longer wore.

Now that she stood in front of me, once more locking me in a tight embrace, the smell of her scent overwhelmed me and reminded me of my mother.

But I knew that my mother would never hug me like that. Or even ask me how I've been. Not anymore. Not since my father had passed.

Maybe she didn't ask because she knew there would be no use. I always lied when I answered anyways.

I found a knife in the kitchen and began skinning one of the squirrels. Twill joined me and started on the other.

As I worked I remembered the promise I had made to Snow. I promised that I wouldn't hunt anymore.

But I also promised I would strictly abide by the rules listed in the massive book of laws he had given me. And harboring two fugitives from another District was definitely breaking the law.

But, now that Gale dissembled some of the cameras, I knew the areas where the Capitol no longer could monitor my activity. And I knew if I hunted only in those areas, and remembered never to bring my game back into town, I wouldn't get caught.

So I continued skinning my squirrel without worry. As I prepared the meat for cooking, I told Twill what I had seen at the Mayor's house.

"I saw a broadcast about your district," I began. "About the uprising."

From the corner of my eye, I could see her body automatically stiffen at the mention of her district. She stopped what she was doing and put down the knife that she held in her hands.

"It was just like you described it," I continued softly.

I saw her tilt her head away from me and stare off into the distance. A few moments of silence passed before I heard her letting out a small sigh and reply in a hushed tone.

"Did they say—what was left of it?"

I shook my head solemnly. "They didn't mention what happened to anyone living there. They just said they might have to outsource the textiling industry to another district."

She nodded her head gravely as if accepting the finality of my statement to mean the complete destruction of her home and everything that she had left there.

"It was a Capitol broadcast," I assured. "If there were any survivors they probably wouldn't want anyone to know. You and Bonnie made it out. I'm sure there were others."

She stayed silent as she resumed working on the squirrel that lay in front of her.

"Whoever survived has probably headed out to District 13 by now," she said after a few quiet moments had gone by.

Suddenly I saw Bonnie twirl happily into the room. She stopped right at the counter where we stood.

"What are you two whispering about?" she asked giving us a suspicious glance.

"You shouldn't be dancing yet," I advised. "Your leg is still healing."

When I first found Bonnie in the woods, she was a scrawny, underfed girl who had a broken ankle from her long journey there. I asked my mother for advice and tried my best to heal her. I don't know if it was enough, but it was all I could do.

"I'm feeling so much better now!" Bonnie announced taking another gleeful turn. "I'm better than I have been in weeks!"

She was. Now she was vibrant, healthy and strong girl who was visibly much happier than she was before.

"So are you two going to tell me what you were talking about, or do I have to guess?"

"We were just discussing our plans for when we leave here," Twill responded, purposely leaving out the information I had told her about the dismal state of their home district. The poor girl didn't have to be reminded of all the family and friends she had lost in the bombing of her district.

"But I don't want to go!" the younger girl protested. "I like it here. I like being here in the woods with just you and Katniss."

"I know," the older woman replied sympathetically. "But we only agreed to stay here until your ankle healed. Now that you're feeling better, we can finish our journey."

"But why do we have to go?" the girl whined. "Why can't we just stay _here,_ and live with Katniss?"

"It's not safe here," I answered. "The Capitol is sending more and more Peacekeepers into twelve everyday. If you're out in the woods, their hovercrafts can easily spot you. District 13 is your best bet for shelter."

"I thought you said that District 13 doesn't exist," Bonnie prodded tauntingly.

"Well, now I have a reason to believe that it does. I saw video footage of the district, and you were right. The Capitol _has_ been using old footage. In the video I saw, the smoke hasn't even cleared since the bombing took place."

"I told you!" Bonnie blurted out triumphantly. "I told you the Capitol uses old footage! But _you_ didn't believe me!"

"Alright, I believe you now," I conceded. I rolled my eyes at her yet couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on my face.

"It's just like I said," she continued excitedly. "District 13 survived the attack, and they've been living on their own this whole time. I bet they've built an entire secret empire by now!"

"You were right about the footage," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean that District 13 has built an empire; or that they've even built anything at all. For all we know, when we get to District 13 there will be nothing there."

That seemed to quiet the overly enthusiastic girl.

"Back in our district," Twill spoke up. "There were stories about thirteen. About the brave souls who fought against the Capitol and won back their freedom. Many men and women died. Children too. But the remaining few that survived, they rebuilt the entire district underground, where the Capitol couldn't find them. There they were finally free, free from the Capitol and free to live however they pleased."

She paused for a moment before continuing, "I don't know how much of the stories are true. But if something's there, I want to find out for myself."

"You will," I promised. "And I'll help you get there."

"You're coming with us?" Bonnie squealed excitedly. She gave me a quick hug before pulling away and exclaiming, "Oh, I can't wait. Travelling to District 13 with the Mockingjay. It'll be so much fun!"

She gave another twirl to express her sudden sense of elation and danced off into the living room.

"Thank you, Katniss," Twill whispered shortly after the young girl had left. "But you really don't have to do this," she said setting her sincere brown eyes on me. "You've already risked your life just helping us. Giving us food and shelter, that's more than we can ask for. Having you take us all the way to District 13, that would be too much."

"No, it wouldn't be too much. I _want_ to help you. Please, let me do this."

She didn't seem convinced by my words but I continued.

"You can't get there on your own. I know these woods like the back of my hand. I can _help_ you."

She gazed at me with a hesitant expression on her face as she thought about my offer.

"Do you know what path we can take to get there?" she responded finally.

"I'm not sure. But I can draw up a map, and I'll explore all the possible routes until I find one that gets us there."

"We should set out as soon as possible," she recommended.

"Not yet," I warned. "It's not safe to travel these woods. The Capitol has cameras set up all throughout the forest."

A startled look gripped her face, which had suddenly grown pale at hearing my words.

She placed a worried hand over her temple. "Then _how_ will we get there?" she whispered, her whole body slumping over in defeat.

"I have a friend who knows how to dissemble the cameras," I assured her. "He already started. It shouldn't take much longer."

She smiled at me with a grateful glint in her brown eyes.

"Thank you," she said taking my hand in hers. "Thank you so much Katniss." She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "You go rest in the living room with Bonnie. I'll finish up in here."


	49. Bonnie's Story

"So how have you been spending your days?" I asked Bonnie. She had been through a lot since the uprising. It was best for her to keep busy to keep her mind off of things.

"Twill's been trying to teach me how to cook," she replied. "And I've practiced setting up snares like you taught me."

"That's good," I smiled.

"But I haven't caught anything," she admitted. "I've just been dancing around the house mostly. I never had this much free time before. Back in Eight, it was all just school or work. Work, work, work. That's why I like being here."

"I remember when I was younger I would come here with my dad. He would try to teach me how to dance, sometimes, but I was never really good at it."

"Really? How are you not good at dancing?" she asked incredulously. "You're good at everything!"

"Two left feet," I replied with a shrug.

"Don't worry, I'll teach you," she said as she quickly sprang to her feet and pulled me by the arm.

"No, it's okay," I protested, leaning back against the couch. "There's no music on."

"Then we'll make our own music!" she exclaimed. "Can you sing me a song?"

_I never sing anymore. Not since my father passed away. But ever since the Games were aired, everyone expects me to burst into song for them._

"Maybe next time," I replied with a polite smile.

She sat back down on the couch and sighed despondently.

"When are you going to bring Peeta over?" she asked.

Her question took me by surprise. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I never imagined bringing Peeta into the forest, much less to this cabin. It was dangerous to go into the woods now, even more so than before. And the cabin was a sacred place for me. Before Bonnie and Twill, I had never brought anyone there. Not even Gale.

Besides, there was no reason to bring Peeta there. I didn't even tell him that I had met two runaways from District 8 and was keeping them here. Housing them was illegal, and there was no need for Peeta to get involved. My mind reeled to think of a suitable answer.

"He's busy," I finally said. "He has work."

"But he's a Victor!" Bonnie exclaimed. "Why is he working?"

"He's very passionate about what he does," I shrugged.

"What does he do?"

_What doesn't he do?_

_He bakes. He builds. He draws. _

_And he puts the same amount of passion in everything he does._

"He works at the bakery," I said finally settling on an answer.

"Tell him to take a day off," she suggested. "I want to meet him in person at least once before I leave! He's my favorite Victor, you know. My friends all say Finnick O'Dair's hotter. But I don't agree. Peeta's just gorgeous!"

I didn't really know how to respond to that.

"I've never met Finnick before," I replied and hoped that would suffice. I've never really been good at girl talk.

"It doesn't matter. He's not nearly as handsome as Peeta! Or as brave. All Finnick ever cared about was winning. Just like every other Victor. And now all he does is sleep around with Capitol women."

_Not by choice. He was forced to sleep with all those women from the Capitol, just like he was forced to kill all those people in the games._

"When you're in the arena you have to do whatever you can to survive," I said trying to explain. "If you don't give in to your instincts—you'll _die_."

"But Peeta never gave in to his instincts, and _he_ didn't die," the young girl pointed out. "Peeta didn't even care about winning. All he cared about was protecting you. He was willing to risk anything for love. And in the end, love saved him."

_I never thought of it that way._

Bonnie let out a wistful sigh before continuing. "He's so romantic. And funny and charming too!" she gushed. "No wonder you fell for him!"

_I didn't fall for him. I don't fall for humor or charm. Or for anything at all._

"He's perfect!" she continued in a dazed tone. "Is he really like that in person?"

"I don't know if he's perfect," I replied sympathetically. "But he definitely has a gift for making people laugh."

"He _seems_ perfect! You're so lucky to be married to him!" she gave one more wistful sigh before glancing at me. "What's it like?"

"What?"

"Being married to the most amazing guy in all of Panem?"

"He's just like any other husband, I guess."

"You're just saying that!" she declared, mistaking my indifference for modesty. "You know every girl in Panem wishes she was in your shoes. Peeta's so dreamy," she swooned. "And he's got a really hot body!"

_I forgot that pretty much all of Panem had seen Peeta strip down to his boxers. Probably even more because I turned around for the rest._

"Is he good in bed?" she asked suddenly. "He seems like he would be a really great lover."

"Bonnie!" I heard Twill shout from the kitchen, saving me from having to think of an answer.

"What?"

"You're 14," she scolded from the other room. "You shouldn't be asking about those things!"

"Why not?" the young girl demanded defiantly.

Twill appeared at the door with a stern look on her face.

"Because you're too young. And because it's _rude_."

Twill turned to give me an apologetic look. "I'm so sorry, Katniss—it's just that girls have become quite smitten with Peeta since the Games. He's won hearts all over Panem, not just yours," she gave me a light-hearted warning look, before adding on a more serious note.

"I have to say I was impressed myself. Especially when I saw him give away a part of his winnings to the families of the other tributes. No one has ever tried to bridge the gap between the districts. Not since the Dark Ages. And to do so on live television? That was very brave. He inspires the rest of us to be brave as well," she added with a smile before withdrawing back into the kitchen.

"See, I told you he was brave," Bonnie grinned, nudging me with her elbow, as soon as the older woman had left.

"I know he is," I replied with a roll of my eyes. _I just didn't like to admit it._

"I wish I met a guy who was willing to risk so much for me," she sighed.

"You will one day," I assured her with a smile.

"Yeah, but not the way _you_ guys met. It was so _romantic_."

I gawked at her. _How could she think the way Peeta and I met was in any way at all romantic?_

"There's nothing _romantic_ about a game that makes you kill people for sport," I shot back in a disgusted tone.

"It's not the game that makes it romantic. Just the situation."

I glanced over at her warily, trying to make sure she hadn't injured her head somehow between now and the last time I saw her.

"Having to choose between taking someone's life or taking your own isn't exactly a romantic situation," I retorted heatedly.

"It's a terrible situation!" she agreed. "But to have someone there to remind you that even with all the violence, you're still capable of loving someone—that's romantic."

I paused for a moment, taking in her words. I hated to admit it, but she was right. After my father died, I thought the whole world had turned against me. My mother, my friends, my family, everyone I knew had abandoned me. But Peeta was still there for me. He reminded me that there was still some good left in this world.

And then, in the arena, when I thought everyone was my enemy, Peeta was there to show me love and kindness. He showed me that even the Capitol couldn't destroy all the good that existed in the world. That in the end love truly did prevail all.

I was amazed that though Bonnie was younger than me, she seemed to know much more. "Were you ever in love before?"

"I had a boyfriend once," she replied shyly. "When I was thirteen. I'm not sure if it counts, though. All we did was hold hands and kiss a couple times."

_That's as much as Peeta and I did. Most of it was for the cameras, though. I still wasn't sure how much of it was real._

"It counts," I assured her.

"At first it started out as a series of pranks that we would play on each other. He would steal my factory tools and I would get upset at him. But I think he did that just to get my attention. I got back at him soon enough though," she remembered with a nostalgic glint in her eyes. She smiled and hugged her knees to her chest as she continued her story.

"Then we became friends and started sharing all our lunch breaks together. He would steal clothes from the assembly line and we'd pretend to be people from the Capitol and make funny accents. I always played Candace—she's our Capitol representative. I was always better at doing accents than he was."

"It sounds like you guys had a lot of fun," I commented softly.

She nodded her head gravely.

"But he's probably dead now." Her eyes began to well up.

The poor girl lost everything. Her family. Her friends. Her home. I didn't know what I could say. There was no way I could ever alleviate all of her pain.

"Maybe he survived and made it to District 13," I offered, gently placing my hand over hers. "He's probably waiting for you there already."

She just nodded her headed absent-mindedly and continued staring off into the distance, with the hurt look still imprinted in her eyes.

Just then Twill came into the room. "Lunch is ready. Why don't you girls come and help me set up the table?"

She knew Bonnie needed a distraction. That the only way to cope with losing so much, is just to ignore it all. Numb yourself from the pain and never think about it for too long. That's the only way you'll have enough strength to carry on.

I ate with them, and then went back to my house in the Victor's Village.

As soon as I entered our living room, my eyes fell on a large framed photograph sitting on the mantel above the fireplace. It was a picture of Peeta and I on our wedding day.

I took the picture down from the mantel and examined it more closely. We were both smiling for the cameras, just as we had been told to do, but the happiness on Peeta's face seemed more convincing than my own. Just by looking at the photo, it was hard to imagine that anything tragic had ever happened to him.

Madge told me Peeta had lost someone to the games. I didn't know _who _it was, but it must've been someone important, since he changed so drastically afterward.

I desperately wanted to know who it was.

I couldn't ask Peeta. Not in our house, where the cameras heard everything. I knew that if Peeta had asked me about my father's death, I wouldn't want to talk about it in front of the Capitol cameras that watched us in our house. I had to give him the same courtesy and respect. So I couldn't broach the subject until we had a private place to talk.

But I was impatient. We wouldn't get a chance to go to his mother's house for another four days. I didn't want to wait that long.

Of course, it wouldn't be hard to find out who it was on my own. All I had to do was watch a rerun of the game two years ago. There were only two tributes from 12. Whoever Peeta lost, it had to be one of them.

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><p><strong>AN**

**So I've kind of made Bonnie into a Peeta fangirl! I hope you don't mind! :)**


	50. 72nd Reaping Day

**A/N**

**I don't know if you guys noticed, but I added cover pics to all my stories! I hope you like them! ;)**

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><p>I turned on the TV and selected the program I wanted to watch.<p>

_72__nd__ Hunger Games_

_Reaping Day_

A menu popped up on the screen listing all twelve districts, asking me which district's reaping day I wanted to watch first. I scrolled down until the cursor reached _District 12_.

I hesitated for a moment before continuing.

I wondered if maybe I should wait until Peeta came home, and ask him what happened in the Games instead of secretly watching it behind his back.

But my desire to know _who_ it was burned so strong, that I couldn't wait. I had to see for myself.

My palms were sweaty as I held the remote in my hand and tentatively pushed down the button that would unravel the secret that Peeta had kept so long from me.

The video immediately flicked on and the opening credits of the game began appearing on the screen.

I could hear Claudius Templesmith's voice over the speaker announcing the start of the 72nd Hunger Games. His voice automatically sent chills down my spine as it reminded me of all the dead tributes whose names he had announced during my stay in the arena.

I gulped down as the district name was announced and the camera panned to show the town square where hundreds of scared, underfed children were standing in their best rags, positioned into rows according to their age, bracing themselves to hear the names of their friends, their loved ones, or even their own.

I saw Mayor Undersee mount the stage and begin a speech about the sacred nature of the Games and it's role in Panem's history. I hastily found the fast forward button and pressed down on it, hard, skipping the Mayor's contrived speech about making sacrifices for the nation.

_If making sacrifices was so important to the nation, then why didn't the citizens of the Capitol ever have to make any sacrifices of their own?_

I left my finger pressed down on the fast forward button, until I had skipped past the video noting Panem's history in the Games, and the ceremonious entrance of Effie and her introduction of the district's only surviving Victor, Haymitch. Effie had chosen to wear a bright yellow ensemble that year so she appeared only as a small bee zooming across the screen as I continued fast forwarding the video clip.

Luckily, Haymitch hadn't fallen over the stage and made a complete fool of himself that year. He merely said a word or two before sitting down on a chair next to Mayor Undersee, and putting his arm around him in an obviously drunken manner. I didn't stop fast forwarding the clip until I saw the two reaping balls being brought onto the stage by a pair of Peacekeepers. I automatically let go of the remote and let it fall onto my lap, as my eyes focused on Effie who was now sauntering over to the reaping bowl closest to the edge of the stage.

Effie announced that it was time to pick the girl tribute in her disgustingly cheery voice as her well-manicured hand dropped into the bowl and clawed out the name of some unfortunate district 12 girl.

I held my breath as I anticipated hearing the name _Mellark_ ringing from Effie's hideously decorated mouth.

"Nadine Colewater," Effie chirped happily, beckoning the young girl to the stage.

She was a small girl with black, curly hair who was only a few inches taller than Prim, but almost twice as skinny. I remembered seeing her around my neighborhood playing with the other Seam children. She couldn't have been more than 13 years old.

She looked frightened as she climbed the stairs leading up to the stage, staring at Effie with such terror in her big grey eyes that she almost toppled over her own feet. I felt sorry for the poor girl, yet at the same time I felt somewhat relieved, knowing that she was from the Seam. That meant the girl couldn't possibly be related to Peeta in any way.

_So it wasn't a sister he had lost, but maybe it could've been a brother._

I waited anxiously as I saw Effie pull the second bowl closer to where she stood. She dipped her fingers into the glass bowl and sifted through the slips until she had landed on the one she wanted. She pulled out the slip of paper, and held it out in front of her as she read the name aloud.

"Joseph Silas Sherwood."

_Sherwood. So it wasn't a Mellark._

The camera zoomed in on a boy who stood in the same row as Peeta, only a few boys stood between them, signifying that they had to be around the same age. The boy had dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, similar to Peeta's but different all the same.

He didn't look startled as the other girl had been once her name was called, and he didn't hesitate as he instantly marched over to the podium, as if he couldn't wait to get there.

The camera lingered on the boys that surrounded him for a moment before panning out to follow his descent onto the stage. I saw Peeta's eyes widen in fear and face grow pale as soon as the boy's name had been called. Now, as the camera once again surveyed the reaction of his peers, I saw that Peeta looked just as scared as he did before. He seemed paralyzed with fear.

The camera veered its attention back to the stage, where the boy had already ascended. Effie congratulated him and then persuaded him to shake hands with his district partner. The little girl looked at him fearfully, as he shook her hand without any semblance of emotion on his face. The girl was only a year younger than him, but he was at least twice as big. His arm muscles rippled slightly as he gripped her small trembling hand and shook it confidently with one abrupt motion, before quickly letting go.

Effie said some words, which I fast forwarded through, wishing that was something I could always do when she opened her mouth to speak. Then suddenly something caught my eye. It wasn't when Haymitch started dancing on the stage. No. It was something more subtle than that.

It something I saw when the camera had zoomed in to show a close up of Joseph's face. I rewinded the tape until I had reached the close up once more. I paused on the frame.

It wasn't the cold look in his eyes that caught my attention. If he felt any fear, he wasn't showing it. It was carefully concealed behind a veneer of apathy and dogged determination. The type of determination that wasn't common among most tributes reaped from our district.

No, it wasn't his face that had caught my attention.

It was the pendant around his neck.

A leather cord held a metallic pendant that glistened in the sun. I noticed the pendant was abnormal in its shape yet oddly familiar.

It was the very same pendant that Peeta wore as his token in the arena.

The one that signified Justice.

At that moment, I understood that whoever this boy was to Peeta, whether he was a cousin or a friend, he obviously meant a lot.

That was all I needed to know.

I flicked off the TV.

I had found out his name. And a piece of evidence proving his connection to Peeta. Now I just had to figure out _why_ he had this connection to him.

I decided I would ask Peeta to go to his mother's house later that day, when we could discuss the issue in private.

I looked at the time and noted that it was almost time to pick up Prim from school. I knew she didn't want me to, but I'd be damned if I let her walk home alone and then get picked up by a Peacekeeper along the way.

I hurried off to take care of my sister. When I returned home hours later, I found Peeta sitting on the couch with the remote in his hands, waiting for me.

He didn't greet me as he usually did. He didn't even look at me.

I noticed the TV wasn't on. Peeta just stared at the floor, with his body slumped on the couch.

"I saw the remote on the couch," he explained. He continued looking toward the ground, if he couldn't bare to look at my face. "I thought you were watching the Games. Reliving your nightmares. _Our_ nightmares."

I approached him silently, and sat down beside him, gently placing a hand on his slumped shoulder.

"But it wasn't our game," he said with despair.

"No," I answered softly.

He turned to look at me with a look of fear in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether he could trust me or not.

He looked like a wounded animal, one who was shot, but not yet killed. The image reminded me of the first few animals I had shot when I was learning to hunt. I did a bad job of it, and I could never kill the animal instantly, so it withered in my grasp, begging me for mercy, but never fully trusting that I would be willing to give it.

"We need to talk," I whispered calmly, as I gently caressed his shoulder. "We'll go to your mother's house, and you can explain everything to me there."

He turned away from me and shook his head despondently.

"They'll probably be asleep by now."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Thursday," he muttered under his breath.

A familiar smile cracked against his brooding face. "My mother won't be home then," he added.

His smile disappeared just as soon as it had come. He rose up from the couch and set the remote back in its place by the TV. He avoided my gaze as he bid me goodnight and sullenly climbed up the steps and into his room.


	51. PART II: Memories

**A/N**

**I know you guys are probably very excited to learn more about Joseph, but in order to tell Joseph's story I have to start at the very beginning! ;)**

**But I promise Joseph will definitely make an appearance in the next chapter. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one!**

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><p>I remember the year Gideon got reaped.<p>

It was the first time someone close to me died in the Games.

I spent my entire life watching my cousins get ripped apart on national television, but they were all years older than me, so I wasn't close to any of them.

It wasn't until I was ten that I began worrying that someone from my age group would get reaped, whether it was a cousin or a friend. Gideon was both.

He was only twelve when he was reaped. He died within the very first day of the Games.

The people of twelve were so used to losing their tributes in the Games, that they went along with their business as usual and acted like nothing had changed.

Of course, the grocers cried over their son's death and even closed down their shop for a while. But soon enough they got back to work and the store was reopened. The people of 12 needed to get their fruits and vegetables somehow.

They also needed to get their bread. The bakery stayed open even as the games aired, under a restricted schedule of course. We had to make time to watch the Games everyday.

After the Games had ended in the fall, the bakery resumed operating under its normal hours. I was ten by then, so I had already been working at the bakery for two years.

At first, I only did the small jobs, like sweeping the floors and washing the dishes. My parents wouldn't let me go near the ovens until I was at old enough, so I was excited when I was finally allowed to bake. About a year after Gideon's death, I had finally started baking cookies.

My brother Patrick, who was seventeen at the time, was teaching me how to frost them.

"Peeta this looks terrible," he said honestly "No one's going to buy this. You've got to start over."

He placed the tray on the counter and began emptying the cookies into a bag.

"It looks fine to me," Percy said taking a cookie from the tray and stuffing it in his face.

"That's because you'll eat anything you set your eyes on," Pat said.

"I can't help it, I'm a growing boy," Percy answered sarcastically.

"Doesn't look like it," Pat jibed back.

"Maybe if I bash your head in it'll help you see better."

"No, that won't work. You'll still be an annoying little brat. And a lazy one too. Have you even done any work since you got here?

"Yeah, I made a loaf of bread," he said.

"That's _all_ you've done? You've been in here for an hour!"

"But it's so early in the morning," he whined.

"Well, that's the life of a baker. You wake up early and bake enough bread to feed the entire district."

"That sucks," Percy groaned. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life doing that."

"Too bad. You don't have much of a choice. You can marry a girl when your eighteen and practice her family's trade, but until then, you're stuck here."

"Those are my _only_ two choices? I'd rather be a Victor."

"Fat chance of that happening," Pat scoffed.

"You get to live in a big fancy house, and sleep in all day. You get all the ladies. And all the booze. That's how I want to live."

"Yeah, but first, you've got to win the Games," Pat reminded him.

"So what you're saying I can't win the games?"

"Win?" Pat laughed. "You wouldn't last a day!"

"Yeah, I would! I can fight off all those bastards at the Cornucopia."

"No you can't. You can't even fight me! You wouldn't stand a chance against someone whose been trained all their life."

"Yeah I could. With the proper training."

"And where do you plan on getting this 'proper training'? We don't have training programs here in 12. What do you think, you live in district two now?"

I stifled a laugh.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing. It's just—you wouldn't last at the Cornucopia. No one ever does."

"Oh, what do you know?"

"He's right, pretty much everybody from twelve dies at the Cornucopia." Pat agreed.

"Gideon didn't."

"That's because he ran in the _other_ direction," I pointed out.

"Okay, so, I'll do the same thing."

"He had three other tributes chasing after him," Pat reminded him. "He was lucky the snow held them off. Otherwise he would have never made it to the cave alive."

"Even then the tiger could've easily ripped him apart," I said.

"Yeah, but he didn't."

"Only because there was another tribute behind him," Pat explained. "The tiger must have felt more threatened by the boy with the spear so he attacked him instead."

"If he hadn't been there, Gideon would've been the one getting ripped to shreds," I added grimly.

"But he got away," Percy argued.

"He got lucky," Pat corrected.

"Lucky enough to get to an abandoned cave. After that, he could've survived."

"He froze to death."

Percy took a moment to stuff another cookie in his face, before responding.

"All you need is a coat. It doesn't take a genius to figure _that_ out."

"You're such an idiot!" Percy scolded. "Where are you going to get a coat when you're stuck in the middle of the arena?"

"I'll kill a deer or something."

"And how are you going to do that without any weapons?"

"I'll find someone with a weapon and I'll fight it off them, duh. Then I'll skin the deer."

"You don't even know how to skin a deer," I said.

"Lets pretend that he does," Pat proposed. "How do you know the other tribute won't kill you first?"

"He won't. I'm good with hand to hand combat."

"It doesn't matter how good you are at fighting, the arena will kill you off anyway. You'll freeze to death like Gideon."

"Or you'll get sucked into quicksand like Bobby," I added. "Or get trapped in a bed of ivy like Vanessa. Remember that? That looked pretty awful. She was screaming for_ hours_."

"Any idiot can get past that if they just learn some basic survival skills. That's what training's for."

"Again with the training? You're not going to get trained! This isn't District one or two," Pat sighed. "You know what? Get back to work. You're doing way too much talking and not enough baking."

"Baking is a complete waste of my time! How is learning how to bake cookies going to help me survive in the arena?"

"Maybe you'll get hungry," I joked.

I automatically felt his hand swipe the back of my head.

"Ow," I cried in response.

"That's what you get for trying to be smart, pinhead."

"Hey, don't get distracted," Pat warned. "Mom will be here any minute. Percy you finish up with the bread, and then start on the cookies. Peeta try not to mess up the frosting this time. I can't keep hiding all the bad batches you've made. Mom will find out soon enough."

I nodded. Every time I made a bad batch of cookies, my mom would hit me. Patrick tried to protect me by hiding the cookies from mom, but when she found out she'd just hit the both of us. I knew this routine well enough to know that this time, I had to make the cookies perfect.

"Just try to get everything done before mom comes, alright? I'm going to go help dad out in the front."

With that, Patrick left the room, leaving us to finish our work on our own.

Percy finally finished his second loaf of bread just as soon as I began working on my last tray of cookies. He brought three trays of cookies to where I was standing, and placed them all on the counter beside me.

"I bet I could finish all these trays before you do that one," he challenged.

"But I've already started."

"So? I can still beat you," he smirked.

"Alright, you're on," I said, convinced I would surely be the one to win.

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><p><strong>Check out the next chapter to see what Peeta and Percy bet on! ;)<strong>


	52. Brothers

**Ok, so I felt really bad about making the last chapter so short, that I decided to make this chapter super long!**

**Hope you enjoy it! :D**

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><p>I lost.<p>

I was so focused making my cookies perfect that I hadn't noticed when Percy had finished. He had managed to finish all three trays before I even finished one. I couldn't believe it. I knew he was normally a lot faster than I was, since he had spent more years working in the bakery than I had, but I hadn't expected him to finish all three trays before me.

"You did it all wrong," I said glancing over at his 12 rows of botched cookies. "It doesn't count."

"That doesn't matter. I finished first," he snapped back. "A deal's a deal. _I_ get Charlie."

Charlie was my pet turkey. I found him one day when I was watching the annual District 12 Turkey Derby. His owner was my Aunt Rooba, the town butcher. She had a lot of turkeys to spare, so every year she joined the race, and she usually won.

That year her turkey hadn't made it to the finish line because it had damaged its leg along the way. As she usually did with the turkeys that didn't win the race and were injured, she planned on chopping it up and selling it in her butcher shop. I begged her to let me have it, and she finally agreed to give it to me as an early birthday present.

I was so happy she gave it to me. I liked having a pet. The last two pets my family had were cats. I didn't like them too much. They didn't like to play. All they did was steal food from the table. One of them died when Percy put it in the oven. Another got caught stealing cookies from the bakery so my mom threw him out. So I was excited when I got a turkey as a pet.

The first thing I did was name it Charlie. Then I nursed the turkey back to health, and fed and trained him until he was ready to compete again. By the time the next derby came around, the turkey grew so attached to me that it followed me wherever I went. My friends at school saw Charlie following me one day and they decided to get pet turkeys too. Together, my friends and I trained our turkeys for the race. It became sort of like an after school hobby.

In the end, all the hard work paid off. I won first place in the annual turkey derby, and got a shiny plastic trophy with my name on it and a free bag of food pellets for Charlie.

But ever since I won, Percy tried taking Charlie away from me. I guess because he didn't really like it when other people won things and he didn't. Especially when that other person was _me_.

"I'm not giving up Charlie! The derby's coming up soon, and I've been training him for weeks!"

"You made a deal," Percy said reproachfully. "Now you have to honor it!"

"I only made the deal, because I thought I was going to win!" I replied honestly.

"Ok so now because you lost you're going to back out of the deal?" he asked. "What kind of man are you?"

"I'm not a man. I'm only eleven!" I exclaimed.

"So? You have to start learning how to be a man at some point. Now is as good a time as ever."

As misguided as his advice was, I took his words to heart. I knew that now that I had officially started working at the bakery, I didn't have to time to prepare for the derby anymore. I had to focus all my time and energy on learning how to bake. Dad always said we had to make sacrifices for our work, and I was ready to start making those sacrifices. But before I gave my pet turkey to Percy, I had to make sure he would treat him right.

"What are you going to do with him?" I asked hesitantly.

"I don't know. Maybe I'll eat him," Percy snickered.

"No," I protested. "Don't do that! He's a pet—not _food_."

"Well, if I get hungry, I might just have to kill him," he shrugged, before letting out an ominous chuckle.

"I won't let you have him."

"What do you mean you won't let me?" he replied jeeringly. "He's already mine."

"I'll take him back!" I warned. "I'll tell dad you're trying to kill Charlie!"

"Alright, you don't have to cry about it, you little baby," he said. "I was just joking. I'm not actually going to eat him."

"You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise. I won't kill him, or eat him," he said, rolling his eyes. "I don't get why you care about it so much anyway. It's just a turkey."

"He's my pet," I declared.

"Maybe I'll sell him to another boy who needs a pet," Percy smirked. "Then I can buy a new pair of shoes. I hate wearing Patrick's old ones."

If he hated wearing my brother's shoes, imagine how much I did. I wore Patrick's shoes after Percy had worn them, so by the time they got to me they were all worn out with holes in them. But I didn't mind. I was used to sharing everything with my brothers.

"How come Patrick is the only one who gets new stuff?" Percy lamented. "He gets new clothes, new books, new everything. We don't get anything new."

"That's because he's the oldest," I answered.

"So?" he said defiantly. "That doesn't mean we have to get stuck with all his old stuff."

Suddenly, I saw him point towards the door and make a gagging gesture with his fingers. I immediately turned around and saw that my mother had entered the room.

"What are you boys doing, just sitting around here talking?" she shouted. "Don't you see the state of this room? It's a mess!"

"It looks like a bunch of pigs worked in here," she retorted.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Clean it up!" she barked.

"Maybe you should ask the pigs to clean it up," Percy suggested with a smirk.

My mom immediately smacked him across the face.

"Ow!" Percy wailed in complaint.

"Don't get smart with me," she warned angrily. "Go clean up the mess you've made."

"I'm not the only one who made this mess. It was Peeta and Patrick too."

"I don't care who made this mess. I don't ever want to see it again."

I quickly grabbed a mop and began cleaning the floor.

"The bakery is for working," she continued. "Not for fooling around."

"We finished working," I replied hurriedly.

"You're not finished until I say you are," she asserted sharply. "Understand?"

I nodded my head frantically.

"Yeah," Percy sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Now what have you two got to show for yourselves?"

"I made a tray of cookies," I answered timidly.

"You didn't mess it up this time, did you?"

"I tried not to," I said, walking over to where my cookies lay so I could show her my work.

"Trying is worthless," she maintained steadfastly.

I gulped down nervously as I watched her inspect my tray of cookies. I straightened up my posture and anxiously clamped my hands together as I waited to hear her judgment.

"The flowers are uneven," she remarked. "You missed a couple petals on the frosting, and the cookies are too flat on the bottom."

I watched as she silently inspected the cookies for a while longer.

"But I suppose the cheaper customers will want to buy them. We'll put them out on display."

A wave of relief washed over me.

_She's putting my cookies on display!_

It was all worth it.

Taking my time on the cookies was the right thing to do. Even if it meant I had to lose Charlie.

"I expect you'll do a better job next time," she added sternly, her face contorted into its usual look of disapproval.

"I will," I nodded avidly.

"Good," she said showing the slightest hint of a smile on her face.

I was thrilled to know that my mom was finally satisfied with my work.

And I didn't get hit or screamed at like I usually did.

And I showed my mom I that could do it—I could make a perfect batch of cookies that were worth selling, just like Patrick. And she didn't have to be disappointed in me anymore.

"You think _Peeta_ did a good job?" Percy interjected sharply. "I made three trays of cookies _and_ a loaf of bread."

"You made all these trays right here?" my mother asked him.

"Yes I did," he boasted. "It's pretty amazing isn't it? I did them all in less than half an hour!"

"You idiot!" she exclaimed smacking him across the head again.

"Ow!" he cried. "What was that for?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, _not_ to rush through your work?"

"I was just trying to do them quickly so I could save some time," he explained rubbing the back of his head where she had hit him.

"Yes, and now all of these trays will end up in the garbage! I hope you're proud of yourself. You've ruined three perfectly good trays of cookies."

"I'm very proud of myself," he retorted. "I beat my own record by 15 minutes."

"Everything's a game to you isn't it?" she scolded.

He smirked. "Maybe."

She grabbed his ear and turned it sideways, emitting loud cries of pain from Percy.

"You listen to me, you ungrateful wretch," she whispered in his ear menacingly. "I don't know why your father lets you work in this bakery, considering all the money I've wasted trying to teach you how to bake, but if you ruin another batch of cookies, I guarantee that you will be sorry for the rest of your life."

"Let go of me!" Percy shouted, wringing himself free from her grasp.

"I have to check on the bread," he said making an excuse to escape her punitive grasp. He grabbed an oven mitt and squatted down to open the oven.

"Aw," he groaned. "The bread got burned!"

"Again?" my mom scolded. "You can't do anything right, can you?"

"I try not to," he joked with a shrug of his shoulders.

"How can you take this so lightly?" my mother said shaking her head in disgust. "You ought to be embarrassed. You've been working here for four years, and even Peeta can do a better job than you!"

"This isn't my fault!" my brother snapped back defensively. "If you hadn't spent all that time yelling at me, the bread wouldn't have got burned!"

"How dare you blame this on me?" she yelled, incensed by his allegation. "I told you to focus on your work, but instead you decided to turn it into a game. And now you made a mess of things as usual. You never take your work seriously—and that why you fail at everything!"

"You're my mom," he snapped back brazenly. "If there's anyone I can blame for being a complete failure, it's you."

He shouldn't have said that.

His audacious remark earned him a backhanded slap across the face that was so forceful he fell to the floor.

"You watch your tongue," she snarled. I watched her fingers curl around a rolling pin that was situated on the edge of the table. My eyes widened in fear. I knew what was coming.

"It was my fault mom," I interjected, dropping my mop and running over to where she stood, hovering above my brother, ready to pounce. I rushed to stand right between them, blocking my brother from my mother's impending blow. "I told him to race me," I explained. "I made him do everything quickly, and then everything got messed up. I'm sorry. It was all my fault."

She gave me one hard look and for a second I thought that would be enough to save him.

"Don't you lie for him, Peeta," she said, jerking me off to the side. "He always does this. "

"Because of me!" I insisted again, in a vain attempt to stall her and give my brother enough time to lift himself off the floor.

"No," she snapped menacingly. "It's because he's an insolent child," she insisted as she grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pushed him towards the back wall.

"He doesn't care for anybody else but himself," she yelled, turning him round and pressing his face firmly against the wall, with the blood still seeping down from his jaw where she had struck him before.

"And he's lazy," she added, as she took the rolling pin in her hand and delivered a blow right onto his backside.

"Ow!" Percy yowled in pain.

"And selfish," she said as she struck another blow.

"And incompetent," she screamed, whacking him with the rolling pin once more, causing another tortured cry to escape my brother's bloodied lip.

"And he won't learn to be any other way if you keep covering for him."

I couldn't stand to see him being beaten anymore, so I ran to the front of the store and tried to find someone who could help.

But no one was there.

Of course, I thought to myself, I should have known. My father was probably on his lunch break, and my brother was doing deliveries. My mom always made sure my father wasn't there when she would beat us.

"When will you learn to behave you ungrateful little bastard?" I heard her shouting from the other room. I wondered if anyone could hear her from outside. I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted them to.

"Why can't you just be like your brothers? Peeta's two years younger than you and even he's managed to have his cookies put on display before you have!"

I spent years covering up my mother's abusive behavior towards us. I lied about it because I didn't want anyone to find out. I was too embarrassed to admit it. Now, I wasn't getting hit as often anymore. I learned to listen to my mother, and do everything to make her happy so she wouldn't have to hit me. My brother Patrick too. He learned to be perfect to avoid the abuse. But Percy, he always said something stupid that would provoke her. He never did what he was supposed to. He never learned from his mistakes. So he got beat. And I hated it even more than when I would get beat. But there was nothing I could do about it.

After a while, my mother came out of the kitchen with my tray of cookies in her hands.

"You can put your cookies on display," she instructed. "Then you're free to go."

"You don't need me to clean up in back?" I asked.

"No. Percy will take care of it."

I nodded silently.

She handed me the tray. "Tomorrow I want four of these ready by lunch time," she said sternly.

I nodded dutifully, then began putting the cookies on display.

When I was done, I went to check on Charlie. I had left him in the bird pen behind the bakery.

This would probably be the last time I would see him. I had no idea what Percy would do to him. Maybe he'll sell him. Maybe I'll get lucky, and Percy will just use him to win the derby this year and then leave him be. But that was just as likely as Percy killing him.

I squatted down and fed him some food pellets that I had stored in my pocket, and stroked his feathers a bit.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps treading in the mud behind me.

"Hey Dipwad," Percy said as he approached me. "What are you doing next to my turkey?"

"I'm just feeding him."

"Did I say you could feed him?"

I reluctantly dropped the rest of my food pellets on the ground, and stood up to face my brother who was now looming over me.

"I saw your cookies on display. Bet you're feeling real proud of that," he mocked with a scornful grin on his face.

"I didn't choose for them to be put on display," I protested.

"No, but mom did," he said derisively. "Maybe you'll be mommy's favorite now. Just like golden boy Patrick."

_I didn't want to be her favorite. __I just didn't want her to hit me._

"Maybe then you can use your perfect cookies to get me in trouble any time you want," he snapped angrily.

"I didn't want you to get in trouble."

"Oh yeah?" he said, towering over me. "Then why were you showing off, huh?" he asked, the disdain dripping from his voice. He shoved me in the shoulder, pushing me back a couple of steps.

"Why were you trying to make me look bad?"

He was two years older than me and about six inches taller. I could take him. But I didn't want to start a fight.

"I wasn't showing off," I said. "I was just trying to do my work."

He narrowed his eyes and before I could stop him, he punched me in the gut.

I cried out in pain, clutching my belly where he had struck me. Before I realized what was happening, I felt another blow hit me, causing me to fall to my knees.

"Thanks for getting me in trouble, dickhead," he shouted before kicking me hard on my back.

"Oh and stay away from my turkey," I heard his voice trailing off, as he walked away.

I lay there in the mud, doubled over from the pain, crouching from the agony of my defeat.

It was always like this. If I made the cookies wrong, I would get hit by my mother for doing a bad job. If I made the cookies right, I would get beat by my brother for being a show off. Either way, I could never win.

When Percy got in trouble with my mom, he would always blame me for it. I don't think he thought I was really responsible, he just needed someone to release his anger on, and well, I was always there. So that made me the perfect punching bag.

My mother thought hitting us would make us want to be better, and make us fear doing any wrong. It worked for Patrick, so she thought it would work on us too. He used to be a troublemaker just like Percy, but soon enough, she beat it out of him. He learned to stay out of trouble, and strived to be the best at everything in order to avoid our mother's punishment. But it didn't work that way on Percy. It didn't make him into a perfectionist like Patrick. It just made him violent.

And I was always there to receive the blows.

As I lay there crouched over in the mud, I could feel the stench of the pigs sitting in their pen next to me.

_I should get up now. He didn't beat me up too badly. At least this time he didn't go for my face. That would have been really bad. I would've had blood dripping all over me._

I heard some footsteps in the mud again, but I was in too much pain to look up and see who it was.

I heard the steps coming near me, and then felt a figure crouching down beside me.

"Hey, Peeta," I heard a familiar voice coming from outside the cocoon I had built with my body.

"What happened to you?" the boy asked.

"Percy," I moaned painfully.

"Again?"

I turned to look up at him and nodded my head pitifully.

"He's a dick," the boy reassured as he offered a hand to help me up.

With his help, I rose up from the ground and brushed the dirt off my clothes. I looked up to find my best friend shaking his sandy colored head at me, with a disapproving glance in his dark blue eyes.

"You need to fight back," he said.

"I don't want to fight him," I replied. "He's my brother."

He rolled his eyes.

"He's not going to be your friend, Peeta," he said resuming the conversation we've had many times before. "He's not capable of being anyone's friend. He's too self-absorbed."

"Everyone is capable of having friends," I said. "Even you, Joey."

"Whatever," he grinned. "Let's go play soccer."

* * *

><p><strong>I know some of guys probably hate Percy by now, and want to throw him in the Games, but I just want to remind you that he won't actually be in the Games. If you remember in the books, he was actually the older brother that was eligible for the Games but still didn't volunteer for Peeta. Now I guess we know why. Because he's a hater. lol :P<strong>

**Oh and I will be focusing on Percy for a bit because he does play a large role in this story. He's one of the main supporting characters, so I wanted to explore his relationship with Peeta for a little while. But don't worry, the next chapter will revert its attention back to Katniss! ;)**


	53. Young Love

**Yes, Joey is Joseph.**

**I hope you guys like this chapter, because it is on the fluffy side...hopefully it's a refreshing break from some of the darker material in the previous chapter.**

**Btw I'm loving the new layout with the review option right underneath each chapter, and hopefully that'll enable you guys to be less bashful about leaving your comments and telling me what your opinion is on each chapter! ;)**

**As always, enjoy! :)**

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><p>"I can't believe you gave Charlie away!" Joey shouted in despair, as we walked along the paved pathway towards the Merchant playground on the far side of town.<p>

"And to Percy! He'll kill him the first chance he gets!"

"He promised not to," I said.

"Since when does he _ever_ keep his promises?"

"I trust him," I insisted.

"Percy is the last person you should trust," Joey said shaking his head furiously. "It's only two weeks until the Derby! What are we going to do? Everyone's going to drop out once they see you're not doing it."

"Then it'll be easier for you to win," I joked with a shrug of my shoulders.

"I'm not doing it if you're not," Joey insisted out of true comradery.

"Oh come on, you haven't trained your turkey for nothing. You go ahead and do it. I'll be cheering you on from the stands."

Joey sighed. "Fine."

Just then, Delly walked up to us and asked if we wanted to join her in a game she was playing with her friends.

"Sorry, Delly, but we're playing soccer now," I said striking the ball from my friend's grasp, and kicking it across the pavement.

"Maybe next time," I said, flashing her a smile as I continued to maneuver the ball to the opposite side of the park.

Joey ran alongside me and was already a few paces ahead of me by the time I had kicked the ball over to him. He directed the ball further into the park, and I followed after him.

He didn't stop until he came to an abandoned field and that's when he turned and kicked the ball towards me.

"I think she likes you," he shouted.

"Who?" I asked, kicking the ball back to him.

"Your girlfriend Delly," he teased.

"She's not my girlfriend!" I protested, punting the ball straight through the heavy layer of grass. "She doesn't even like me!"

"Of course she does," he taunted. "Why do you think she's always asking you to play with her?"

"That's only because we've been playing together for years!"

"Yeah, because she likes you!"

"No," I shot back. "Because we're _neighbors_!"

"Do you like her back?" Joey teased.

I didn't like her back and he knew it.

I punted the ball right into his chest, and he caught it deftly in his hands, laughing as he doubled over from the blow.

He got up and brushed himself off, before tucking the ball under his arm and dashing towards me.

"I know who you_ really_ like," he said, as a covert smile appeared on his face.

"Shh!" I chided in a hurry.

Of course he knew.

We had been the best of friends for what seemed like eternity—at least to pair of eleven year olds. We told each other everything. I couldn't_not_ tell him about the girl that had captivated my interest for the past four years. I had tried keeping it a secret but he found out eventually, so I had to tell him.

Still, when I told him of my true feelings for Katniss, I had done so in confidence. I didn't want anybody else to find out.

"Don't be so loud! People can hear you!" I silenced him once again, casting a wayward glance around me to make sure no one was listening.

I knew if my brother found out about my crush, he'd make fun of me for it. And then my mother would definitely find out.

She hated people from the Seam. She definitely wouldn't like it if Percy told her I had a crush on a girl from a mining family.

Even if he didn't tell my mother, she would still find out somehow. It was a very small town, and news spread quickly—especially gossip.

So I couldn't tell any of my friends, knowing that any one of them could easily tell their parents—and before I knew it my mother would be screaming at me for having disgraced her in front of the whole town.

"Guess what?" Joey stated leaning in towards my ear. "She's standing right behind you!"

"No she's not," I said rolling my eyes, convinced he was just pulling my leg.

"No, really. She's right there!"

I turned around expecting to see a bunch of merchant kids playing in the park—not her. Not Katniss.

But there she was.

She stood in the meadow, a little further down, right on the edge of the grassy open field and the playground, where the other children continued to play.

She wore a pale grey dress, that brought out the brilliant color of her eyes, and her hair glistened in the sunlight, falling neatly down her back into a single black braid.

My heart started racing just as soon as I recognized who it was.

"But she's never here!" I whispered in surprise. "Not at this park."

Katniss usually stayed in the Seam on our days off from school. They had their own park there.

"Well, she's here now," my friend said nudging me in the elbow. "You should go talk to her."

"No way!" I exclaimed.

"Why? Are you a wuss?"

"No," I retorted. "I just don't want to talk to her."

"Why not?"

"I just don't, alright."

"Of course. You've had googly eyes for her for the past four years, but _that _doesn't mean you want to talk to her," Joey replied sarcastically.

I had only told him about her that year.

I'm glad I didn't tell him any sooner. He was always urging me to talk to her. And I was terrified of approaching her.

"Go on then," my friend urged, giving me a helpful shove. "Ask her out."

"I'm not asking her out," I protested. "I'm not even old enough to date."

"There's a first time for everything," he said.

"My mom would kill me."

"She doesn't have to find out," he suggested.

"She always finds out."

"Alright, fine," Joey conceded with a sigh. "Don't ask her out."

Joey knew how bad my mother could get.

"You can still talk to her. There's no harm in that."

"I don't know…what if someone tells my mom?"

"There's no one here," he reasoned. "No one will find out. I promise. If someone tries to tell your mom, I'll beat them up for you," he joked.

I glanced at where Katniss stood in the distance holding the flowers that her little sister collected as she frolicked across the field. I looked back at my friend.

"What will I say?"

He shrugged.

Neither of us had ever done this before.

"It can't be that hard," he said. "You get along with Delly just fine. Just talk to her the way you talk to every other girl."

"But she's not like every other girl."

"She's still a girl," Joey replied. "Just be nice to her and she'll like you."

"How do you know that?" I asked hesitantly. "What if she'll hate me?"

"She won't hate you," he assured. "Just go up to her and tell her your name. That way at least she'll know who you are. Then maybe you can talk to her after class."

I took a deep breath and nodded. This was my chance to finally talk to her, to let her know who I was.

In class, I was always surrounded by my friends, and they would definitely make a fuss if they caught me talking to a girl from the Seam. I hardly ever saw Katniss outside of class, and if I did she was always with her parents.

This was my one and only shot. I had to do it now.

"Alright," I nodded eyeing my target with a newfound sense of determination. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"I'm not going with you," Joey laughed.

"Yeah, you are! You always go with me!"

"Not this time. This is something you have to do on your own."

"Just come with me!"

"If she sees both of us, she'll get scared!"

"Please don't make me do this on my own!"

"Alright, I'll go halfway. But that's it."

"Deal," I said.

We walked through the grassy field and didn't stop until we were only a few yards away from the girls.

"I don't think I want to do this anymore," I stated nervously.

"Of course, you do!" my friend persuaded. "You've wanted to do this ever since you first saw her!"

"I know, but my feet won't move anymore," I said worriedly, as I glanced down at my feet that were planted firmly in the ground.

"Oh, come on," Joey rolled his eyes. "You're almost there!"

He took me by the arm and dragged me over until we were both only a couple of feet away from Katniss.

"Go on and do it before the boys get here. You don't want them talking about you."

He gave me soft shove to propel me forward.

My friends would be there any minute. And Katniss hardly ever came by that park. I couldn't waste my shot.

_It's now or never._

I gulped down nervously, and then briskly walked up to her, shoving my clammy hands in my pockets as I did. But that only made them even more clammy, so I took them out again. I didn't know what to do with my hands so I left them curled up by my sides.

As soon as I approached her I instantly regretted it. What was I going to say?

I had watched her for years. I knew every little detail about her. But she didn't know anything about me. She didn't even know my name.

_I guess I should start from there._

As I drew nearer, I saw Katniss cast a wary glance my way and then at my friend, who was standing only a couple feet away. She silently averted her grey eyes back to the flowers she was intertwining with her small, lithe fingers.

I stood there frozen in shock, my mind reeling from the momentary contact I had with her.

_She looked at me!_

I could hear my heart thumping loudly in my chest. I stared at her in awe, watching her short black bangs fall prettily over her face as she gazed intently at the dandelions she was braiding.

I couldn't just stand there. I had made it so far already. I had to say something. I took a nervous breath.

"Hi," I stammered. "I'm—I'm Peeta."

I considered pulling out my hand but decided against it once I remembered how sweaty my palms were.

Katniss gazed at me inquisitively as if I was some strange person from the Capitol dressed in silly clothing.

I glanced down at my clothes, to make sure I didn't have any flour or mud on them. I noticed I still had a few specks of mud left on my clothes from when Percy had pushed me down in the ground, and quickly brushed them off.

_I should've stopped at home and changed my clothes before I got here, _I lamented.

Katniss had quietly gone back to arranging her yellow flowers.

I gulped down nervously, and tried again.

"I'm Peeta," I repeated once more.

_Oh no, I already said that!_

"I'm, I'm, I'm in your class," I stuttered.

_Why am I stuttering? I never stutter! Not even around girls._

Katniss lifted her gaze and sized me up, with a wary look in her soft grey eyes.

"So are a lot of people," she replied quickly.

My eyes widened and my heart quickened its pace, just at the sound of her voice.

_She spoke to me!_

"I know," I responded finally after getting over my initial shock. "But I remember you. I remember your name."

She stayed quiet so I continued.

"It's Katniss, right?"

"Why do you remember my name?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

I remembered a lot of things about her.

I remembered the apple she brought in for snack everyday. I remembered the spot by the window where she always sat in class. I remembered the way she bit the end of her pencil when she was concentrating hard on her work. I remember the way she drew flowers I had never seen before on her paper when she grew bored.

I remembered everything about her.

Katniss was still waiting for an answer.

"It's just your name," I replied stupidly. "It's so different."

"What do you mean?" she asked in a defensive manner.

"Well, I've never heard of it before."

She narrowed her eyes at me angrily, before stalking off in the other direction, to where her sister was hunched over picking flowers.

"Wait!" I exclaimed. I didn't understand what I had said to offend her.

I ran after her. She looked back at me, and shouted, "Leave us alone!"

"I, I just wanted to ask you a question," I stammered.

_I'll ask her out. Why not? I might not get a chance like this ever again._

"_Do you want to go out with me?"_

Or at least, that's how it sounded in my head.

But it came out very different when I heard myself saying it out loud.

"What does it mean?"

"What?" she asked in a peeved off manner.

"Your name. What does your name mean?"

She threw me an irritated look.

"I mean it kind of sounds like a cat," I reasoned.

Suddenly, I saw an angry expression come over her face. Before I knew it, she had shoved me down, causing me to fall to the ground with a loud thud. I hit the grassy instantly, not expecting to receive the blow, nor anticipating how hard or muddy the ground would be.

_Oh great! That's the second time I got shoved in the mud today!_

_But hey, who's counting, anyway, right?_

I gazed up at the sky helplessly, completely bewildered by what had just happened.

I propped myself up and noticed Katniss had already run off to where her sister was.

"Come on, Prim," she said taking her sister by the hand. "Let's go find somewhere else to play."

"Where are we going?" her sister asked in a small voice.

"Somewhere where rude boys aren't bothering us."

I slowly got up and dusted myself off for the second time that day. I trudged back to the spot where my best friend stood waiting for me.

I couldn't understand how everything had culminated before it had even began. I didn't understand what I had said that was so wrong. I was just trying to get to know her.

I always wondered what her name meant. I wanted to know how she got such a special name like that. Katniss.

It seemed to be the only thing I didn't already know about her.

When I got nearer I noticed that Joey had been laughing, but he immediately tried to cover his face as I got closer.

"What happened?" he asked in a hurried voice.

"You saw what happened!" I cried dejectedly. "She pushed me down!"

"I know," he said once again trying to stifle his laughter. "Well, why'd she do it? What did you say to her?"

"I just asked what her name means!" I shrugged, utterly confused at what had happened.

"That's it? What's the last thing you said to her?"

"I think I said that her name sounds like a cat—"

"You idiot!" my friend yelled at me. "Why would say that? She probably thought you were making fun of her!"

"I'm sorry! I panicked! I didn't know what else to do, so I just said the first thing that came to my mind!"

Joey shook his head at me incredulously.

"Delly Cartwright comes up to you all the time and you don't break a sweat. But now when it really counts, you _panicked_?"

"I can't help it!" I argued. "Whenever I'm around her, I just get so nervous. I get tongue tied, and start stuttering and not acting like myself _at all_!"

Joey gave an aggravated sigh.

"You should go apologize to her."

"I can't! She's already halfway across the park."

"So go run after her!"

I looked off into the distance until I spotted Katniss pulling her sister through a throng of merchant children. She was headed back to the Seam. I knew had to go after her now before she got too far.

But before I could do anything, I heard some jeering noises coming from the other side of the park. I turned around and noticed that some of the older merchant boys where already in the park. It was after four o'clock, and most of them had been let off their shifts, so they came to the park, and Percy came along with them.

I noticed a small group of Seam kids were among them too. It was rare to see Seam children in the park.

"Looks like its another fight," my friend commented as soon as he saw where I was looking.

Normally we didn't get into fights. This time, however, my brother was involved. Somehow, I felt responsible for him.

I had to stop Percy before he started a fight. If my mom found out he was fighting with other boys, she would be furious.

I gazed longingly in the other direction, desperate to find Katniss and apologize to her, but she was already long gone. I wanted to go after her and apologize, but I felt a greater need to take care of my brother and stop him from getting into trouble.

"Come on!" I exclaimed, reluctantly rushing off to help my brother, with my best friend following after me.

* * *

><p><strong>So that's the story of how Katniss really met Peeta. But knowing how utterly oblivious Katniss is, she probably doesn't remember. And if she does, she just thinks he was making fun of her. :P<strong>


	54. The Fight

Joey and I rushed to an area of the park that had quickly drawn a large crowd of merchant boys and girls who had gathered in a circle to see what all the commotion was about.

"What do you think you're doing here?" I heard a familiar voice yell from inside the circle of merchant children.

It was my cousin, Jesse.

"This is a townie park," my other cousin, Logan, joined in. "That means you can't come in here!"

_Great. That means my brother's got his gang here._

I shook my head despondently. _You can't win with Percy's gang._

"You heard him! What part of '_get outta here'_ don't you understand?" My brother's voice rang out from the center of the crowd. "Get your butts back to the mines where you belong!"

I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and saw that my brother stood in the middle with his friends, ganging up against a tall seam boy who looked about Percy's age, and a smaller boy who stood behind him.

Fortunately, it seemed like no one had started throwing punches yet, so I still had some hope of pulling Percy away from the fight, before it got too far.

"This park is for everyone in the district!" the tall seam boy yelled out. "Not just for you townies!" he spat out the last word as if it were venom seeping from his tongue.

"Yeah, we can be here if we want," the smaller boy piped up getting courage from his friend's audacity.

My brother laughed at him.

"Yeah, you can be here all you want—if a beating's what you're looking for!"

His friends laughed along, and so did some of the observers from the crowd.

"We're just came here to play soccer," the tall boy countered back. "We'll leave when we're done," he added firmly.

"Or you can leave right now," Percy proposed menacingly. "Before anyone has to get hurt."

"I'm not leaving until you leave," the tall boy shot back, inching closer to my brother.

"Ooh," the crowd murmured, startled by his audacity.

"We're not going anywhere," Jesse said. "This is our park!"

"Seam kids really are as stupid as they look," Logan joined in jeeringly.

"Just leave right now, you dolts!" I heard a girl's voice erupt from the far end of the crowd. I turned around and saw a girl with strawberry blonde hair shaking her head, with her hands folded across her chest. It was my cousin Hannah. She had seen one too many fights and was sick of them.

"You know what? I don't even think they're stupid," my brother said. "I think they came here looking for a beating. So they can get a little practice, before they get slaughtered at the cornucopia. Just like they do every year."

It was just like my brother to bring that up when no one else would. Because he took everything as a joke. The tributes from the Seam tended to die almost immediately during the bloodbath at the cornucopia. It was the merchant kids who generally had more of a chance, because they were well fed, and had practiced fighting on the wrestling team. The kids from the Seam couldn't afford to be on the wrestling team, so they had absolutely no experience fighting prior to the games, and had a lower chance of survival than we did.

I shook my head. _I can't believe my brother would stoop so low._

My cousins laughed at my brother's inappropriate jibe, and so I heard some snickers from the crowd as well.

"What was that Seam girl's name, the one that died last year?" Jesse chortled. "Maple was it?"

"What kind of stupid name is Maple?" my other cousin mocked.

"A name only a stupid coal miner can make up!" Jesse responded, slapping his knee in amusement.

I was so ashamed of my cousins at that point, that I almost missed it when the taller boy dashed over to my laughing cousin, and shoved him on the shoulder.

"Hey!" he cried out angrily. "Keep your grimy hands off me! You just got my clothes dirty! Don't you know how much they cost? More than your house!"

"I don't care about your pretty little clothes," the boy retorted heatedly. "I'll get them dirty if I want. You just keep your mouth shut!"

"Oh, feisty!" my brother adjoined with a smile. "It must have been a cousin, if you're getting so heated up about it—or maybe it was your sister!" he suggested mockingly.

"She wasn't my sister, you dolt!" the boy growled angrily.

"Oh I don't know," Percy retorted with a shrug. "You all look the same to me."

I heard the crowd around me erupt in laughter at his ignorant humor.

I felt so embarrassed for being a part of this group. I knew that my brother was just repeating something he had heard my mother say, but I felt ashamed knowing that other merchant children thought it as okay to make fun of Seam children like this.

_This is why Katniss never comes to this park._

"Well, we must be doing something right," the tall Seam boy retorted with a smirk materializing on his face. "Maple got a 6 in training. What did your boy get? A three was it?"

"Ooh, yeah," the smaller boy next to him jeered. "He got beaten by a _girl_."

"I guess sitting around in your fancy little shops all day has made you weak," the other boy adjoined with a smile.

That got the merchant kids all riled up. They began booing and shouting at the boys.

"We're not weak!" I heard someone shout from the crowd.

"Yeah, we're stronger than you!"

"They're too stupid to realize that we're stronger than them," another voice said.

"All the coal must've gotten to their heads!"

I heard laughter erupt all around me.

"After today, they'll remember not to mess with us," Logan stated menacingly, as he took a step closer to the tall boy from the Seam.

_Oh, no!_

The fight was already starting to escalate. I had to do something. If my mother found out my brother was fighting again, she would beat him. My mother didn't care about children from the Seam. But she cared about her reputation.

"We'll give them a whipping they'll never forget," I heard my brother repeat a phrase I had heard my mother utter so many times before.

"Come on! I'm not scared of you!" the taller boy said stepping up to my brother, until they were only inches away. "You're shorter than me anyways!"

That was enough to set my brother off, and he shoved the boy hard against the chest. He balled his fists up and lifted his arm ready to strike.

I ran up to him and grabbed him by the arm before he could make another move.

"What are you doing?" he spat out angrily, eyeing me with a look of surprise on his face.

He jerked himself free from my grasp. I quickly stepped in front of him, closing the gap between him and his assailant.

"You don't have to do this," I whispered imploringly.

"Yeah, I do! You heard what he said about Gideon! He's our cousin!"

_I love how he only remembers that when it's convenient for him._

"He didn't say anything about Gideon that wasn't true," I said in a hurried, quiet voice.

"So what, you're siding with _them_ now?" he sneered in a surprised tone.

"Hey Percy, get your brother out of here," I heard my older cousin Logan say. "I want to beat up these Seam rats already."

My brother leaned over to me and whispered in my ear.

"Get out of here," he ordered in between gritted teeth. "Before you get beat for the second time today!"

This is normally around the time I would back off. I would never intentionally start a fight with my brother. He was my own flesh and blood, and I never wanted to do anything to make him mad at me.

But I couldn't let him beat up those boys.

They were innocent. They hadn't done anything wrong. All they wanted to do was to play in the park.

"Stop this fight now," I warned. "Or I'll tell everyone that you still get spanked by mom every day."

A look of horror instantly seized his face. He gazed at me disbelievingly. "You wouldn't do that," he whispered.

"I would," I stated firmly.

"They won't believe you," he countered back hurriedly. "You don't have any proof."

"I don't need any proof. I can tell them anything I want and they'll believe me."

My brother knew I was right. He backed away from me slowly, but the hesitation was still clear on his face. He was debating about whether he should punch me now before I said anything, or just wait until I threw him a lifeline.

I decided to do the latter.

I turned to face his larger friend, Logan, before starting to speak.

"It's not this kid's fault that Gideon got a low rating," I reasoned. "It was Haymitch's fault. He's the one who should've been training him," I said, desperately trying to sway their attention away from the two Seam boys that they were so intent on pulverizing.

"Forget about these two dolts," my brother added. "They're not worth it. Let's go pay Haymitch a visit!"

Logan stared at us for a moment, and his jaw tightened at the thought of having missed his chance at beating up the two Seam boys.

"You're right," he said all of a sudden. "That stupid drunk sits on his butt all day while all our friends keep dying. I'm sick of it!"

I let out a sigh of relief. Now that we had Logan's approval, who was 14 and the oldest of the bunch, I knew Jesse would automatically follow suit.

"You Seam rats can go back to the hole you crawled out of. Don't you even think about showing your faces around here anymore. The next time we see your faces in this park they'll be smashed together on this pavement, you hear?"

"We don't need this stupid park," the taller Seam boy retorted. "Or any place that's filled with pricks like you!"

He gave my cousin one more hostile glance, before turning around and stalking off with his friend.

"Come on!" my brother motioned with a commanding air in his voice. "I'm ready to give that drunk bastard a piece of my mind."

"He's not even here," Joey called out. "The Victory Tour is still going on remember? They need him to do all that Capitol stuff."

"Even better," Percy scoffed. "Let's raid the place! Maybe we can score some free booze!"

His friends roared in approval and dashed off towards the Victor's Village.

The rest of the crowd dispersed, with some boys following after my brother, and others going back to playing in the park.

Joey glanced at me with a hesitant look on his face.

"We gotta go after them," I said. I needed to make sure my brother got home safe, and didn't do anything stupid that would surely get him in trouble with my mom.

My best friend sighed, and rolled his neck in an irritated manner.

"Blake!" he shouted spotting a boy who was our age. "You want to play soccer?"

"Sure," Blake said with a smile.

Joey threw the ball over to him. "Just drop it off at my house when you're done."

"Thanks!" he answered.

Joey turned back to face me.

"Let's go," he said clicking his tongue.

We rushed off after my brother's group in the direction of the Victor's Village.


	55. Haymitch's House

"Isn't this place haunted?" one of the boys asked, as we trekked up the hill and towards the gate that enclosed Haymitch's solitary house in the Victor's Village.

"I heard this place is filled with ghosts of all the dead tributes he ever trained!" Logan shouted loud enough so that all the boys could hear.

"There's no such thing as ghosts!" Joey asserted with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah there is!" Jessie insisted. "My gram told me. They come back every year to haunt him on the day of the reaping. And they don't leave until the Victory Tour is done!"

"Oooh!" my brother crowed imitating a ghost. "I am the ghost of a dead tribute. I have come for Haymitch Abernathy's head!"

The whole group burst into laughter, and he continued, encouraged by their mirth.

"Why did you let me die, Haymitch? WHY?"

"It's because he's too busy drinking," answered Logan. "He's so drunk he can't even make time to train the tributes properly."

"Lazy bastard," Jessie shook his head as we approached the heavy metal gate.

"How are we going to get in?" a boy asked.

"It's probably locked," another said.

"Maybe we should head back now," I advised, hoping I could persuade my brother to go back before he got into any trouble.

"Head back?" Percy asked. "This was _your_ idea! You're not wimping out now are you?"

"This wasn't my idea!" I protested. "This is dangerous. We should go home now, before we get caught."

"Yeah, maybe we should go home," a boy said, and others murmured in agreement.

"Oh come on, you guys are all a bunch of pansies!" my brother exclaimed irritably.

Percy placed his hands around the heavy metal bars of the gate and gave it one strong push. The gate swung open, giving an ominous creak as it did.

"Alright!" the boys cheered. "It's open!"

"I can't believe he left it open while he's gone!"

"What a doofus!" my brother laughed triumphantly. "He must have forgotten to lock it when he left."

"Well, what else do you expect from the town drunk?" Logan chortled as we all rushed into the Victor's Village and up the steep hill towards Haymitch's house.

Once we got there, the boys checked all the doors to see if any of them were left open.

"All the doors are locked!" my friend Ryan said.

"Check the windows!" Percy commanded. "If there's an open one we can climb in through it!"

The boys scattered all across the green pasture checking every single window on the ground floor of the large, overstated mansion.

"All the windows are closed too!" Jessie said as the boys came panting back to the window where Percy stood, trying to find a way to unlock it.

"How are we going to get in?" Ryan asked.

"We'll improvise," Percy said, lifting a large rock off the ground and aiming it at the window.

"Percy, don't!" I shouted in alarm as soon as I realized what he was planning to do.

"It's illegal!" I said rushing up to where he stood, hoping I'd somehow have a chance to stop him before he did anything stupid. "If the Peacekeepers hear you, they'll come rushing over—"

"Oh, shut up!" my brother groaned in annoyance. "It's only a bit of glass breaking—they won't hear it all the way from town!"

"Mom will kill you," I whispered, digging my nails into his shirt as I protectively gripped his arm.

"Then she doesn't have to find out, does she?" he said casting me a threatening glance.

"Who wants a drink?" he yelled out to the crowd.

All the boys rang out in unison.

Emboldened by their cheers, Percy responded by repositioning himself with a new sense of confidence, and then throwing the heavy rock in his hands through the window with all his might.

The glass shattered. And as soon as it did, a deafening noise began blaring all throughout the Victor's Village, and down to the rest of the district.

The noise was so loud that some of the boys got scared. They closed their ears, and shouted in agony as they ran back down the hill, trying to escape the unpleasant sound that infiltrated their ears.

"How do you get this stupid noise to stop?" my brother shouted at me as if I would have the answer.

"I don't know!" I screamed, my voice filled with panic.

"Ugh! Let me just go get the booze already. I didn't do all this for nothing," he bellowed over the blaring sound of the security alarm.

Before I could stop him he had jumped in through the window.

"Percy! What are you doing? Come back here!" I shrieked, my body cold and shaking with fear.

"Look! Peacekeepers are coming!" Joey shouted from behind me. I turned to look in the direction that he pointed. We were standing at the highest peak of the hill, so we could see the whole district up from where we were.

The sun had already set, so it was dark and difficult to see. I squinted my eyes and saw a couple of white laden officers crossing the town square, making their way towards the Victor's Village. They were pretty far off, but it was clear they were headed in our direction.

My eyes widened in fear. "He's right! The Peacekeepers are coming _here_!"

All the boys who were left scrambled towards the gate, eager to run back to the safety of their homes, before the Peacekeepers made it up the hill.

Logan ran over to the broken window, and peeked his head inside.

"Percy! Are you coming out?" he cried frantically. "The Peacekeepers are almost here!"

He didn't hear an answer, so he turned to us with a panic stricken look on his face.

"We gotta go!" he stammered.

"Yeah," Jessie agreed. "Our moms will _kill_ _us_ if they find out we were a part of this!"

"Let's go!" Logan said giving me a shove.

"But he's still in there!" I said dropping to my knees and looking for him. "Percy!" I shouted into the crevice. "Where are you?"

"Just leave him!" Jessie shouted from behind me.

"I can't! He's my brother!" I retorted angrily. As soon as I turned around I saw that they were already long gone, making their way towards the exit.

Joey knelt down by the window beside me.

"Come on out, Percy you big jerk!" he shouted. "I am never going to forgive you if I get in trouble because of you!"

After taking turns begging Percy to come out, threatening to leave, shouting slurs at him, and promising to clobber him, I finally saw his shadow appear in the distance accompanied by the sound of shattered glass being stepped on. Soon, Percy appeared in the window, holding a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"I only came out here to slap you in the face!" he spat in Joey's face. "Don't you ever call me a blubberus turd again!"

"I'll call you what I want!" Joey retorted heatedly. "Now shut up, and lets go before we get caught!"

"Where'd everyone else go?" he asked looking around. "Logan and Jessie—where are they?"

"They left alright! And we should too! Before the Peacekeepers get here!"

"Those bastards!" He cried kicking at the ground angrily. "You can't trust anyone can you?"

"Let's go!" I cried grabbing him by the scruff and pulling him into a trot.

All three of us sprinted towards the exit as fast as we could.

Joey pointed to a pair of Peacekeepers who had already gotten past the gate and were climbing up the hill towards us.

My heart raced wildly in my chest, as I tried to think of a way to escape.

"Let's hide!" I exclaimed. "In the bushes!"

I turned at my heel ready to run back towards the house and hide in the large bushes in the front yard, but before I could make a move, a heard a Peacekeeper calling out to us.

"Hold it right there!" he commanded in his thick District Two accent. "Don't you move a muscle!"


	56. Darius

I turned slowly to face the Peacekeeper who addressed us.

His red hair made him distinguishable enough for us to know that he wasn't from District Twelve.

Percy turned back and mouthed _"he's new"_ at us, with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

"_Yeah, we know_," I mouthed back with a roll of my eyes. It was fortunate for us, that he was a new Peacekeeper. Chances are, he wouldn't know our names.

I recognized the other Peacekeeper from town, since she had worked in District 12 for a while now. But she was over by the house trying to turn off the alarm system, which was still blasting its shrill sound all through the neighborhood.

Percy stepped up confidently towards the red headed man who halted in front of us. The Peacekeeper placed his hands on his hips, where a gun was strapped onto his belt.

I noticed he looked much younger than most of the Peacekeepers in town. He couldn't have been more than a year or two older than Patrick.

"What are you boys doing out here in this time of night?" he asked, with a thick foreign drawl.

"Just taking an evening stroll," my brother informed him.

"A stroll, huh?"

"Yes, sir," he exclaimed with mock veneration.

"Then how you explain that alarm going off? That don't usually happen during strolls, now do it?" the officer noted sardonically.

"I don't know. I thought maybe you could explain that to me."

At that point, Joey and I were having a hard time stifling our snickers.

"A smart one, ain't you?" the man said. "What's your name, boy?"

"Gerard," My brother grinned. "But you can call me Jerry."

He pulled his hand out in front of him, but the peacekeeper didn't return his gesture. He merely gazed at him with a hard look on his face.

"Jerry, huh?" the Peacekeeper said, cocking his head to the side. "Do you know what we do to lawbreakers, Jerry?"

"Don't care to know, since I'm not one of them," my brother responded brazenly.

"So what you call this? Breaking and entering into a Victor's home? That ain't no law breaking?"

"I was only taking a stroll," my brother insisted once more.

"What's that you got in your hand?"

"A bottle," Percy answered plainly.

"A bottle that you stole from inside that house, huh?"

"How'd you guess?" My brother said with a smirk.

"Think this is funny, don't you?" the Peacekeeper admonished. "You think it's funny to break into people homes and steal their liquor?"

"I got thirsty," Percy said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"You know what we do to fellas like you?" the red headed Peacekeeper said narrowing his eyes. "The kind that take what they want without asking? We strap them up on a pole and beat them till they bloody red."

"You'd have to catch me first."

The Peacekeeper chortled.

"You ain't no match for me, boy."

"I can take you. I got a brother that's almost as big as you."

"Is that right? And how old is he?"

"Seventeen."

"I'm older than that, boy," the man chuckled.

"You don't look it."

"You don't even look old enough to drink," the man retorted. "What you doing out here with that bottle of liquor in your hand?"

"My brother let's me drink with him _all_ the time."

It wasn't all the time. It was just once.

"That ain't no bottle of milk you holding there, little boy," the Peacekeeper warned.

Joey laughed.

"I know that," Percy countered defensively. "I'm no baby."

"Give me that," the peacekeeper said wringing the bottle out of my brother's hand.

Just then the other Peacekeeper walked up to us. She was a Peacekeeper in our district for a long time, so we could recognize her by now. Her name was Cecille. The problem was, she could probably recognize us too. And tell our parents that she had seen us here. Joey and I quickly tried to hide our faces as soon as she approached.

"What's the story here, Darius?" she asked.

"Well these here boys are so hell-bent on drinking, that they broke into this Victor's house looking for some liquor," he explained. "This here is Gerard, and let me tell you, he got a real attitude on him—"

"His name ain't Gerard!" she corrected with a laugh. "That's Percy! And that there is his brother and his cousin."

_Oh no, she saw us!_

Joey and I threw frantic glances at each other.

The peacekeeper named Darius began laughing at his mistake.

"Oh, I knew you was pulling my leg!" he told Percy. "Ain't no kinda youngin give up his name that fast when he asked."

"Yeah, right," my brother retorted. "I totally fooled you!"

"I was just telling _Percy_ what we do to boys that steal from houses that ain't they're own," Darius informed his partner.

"That's right. Now you boys, don't want that happening to you," Cecille chipped in. "I know y'all are much smarter than that. So don't you go around stealing other people stuff, and don't let me catch you coming around here no more," she warned.

"You know better than to be messing around with Haymitch's stuff," she added. "You know how he gets."

"We won't do it again," I agreed obediently, before Percy could make another one of his snarky comments. "We promise."

"Alright. I'll leave it to you, Darius," she nodded at her partner. "I got a pot roast waiting for me at home," she explained.

"You boys run home to your mamas," she told us right before she left.

"Alright, Cecille," Darius said waving her off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Joey, Percy and I headed towards the gate, following after her.

"Hey," I heard Darius yell after us. "Where do you think you're going?"

I turned around to find the redheaded Peacekeeper grab ahold of my brother's arm.

"I ain't finished with you yet."

"She said we can _go_," Percy stated firmly, trying to pull his arm free from the man.

"I ain't said that," the Peacekeeper declared, maintaining a steadfast grip around his arm. "You ready for your beating?"

My brother stared at him incredulously.

"Leave him alone!" I shouted.

"This ain't involving you," the Peacekeeper warned. "Now go on, and run off!"

"I'm not leaving without him!" I asserted, stepping closer to where they stood, ignoring the voices in my head that were telling me to run.

"Alright, then. You stay put and enjoy the show!" said the red headed man said with a crooked smile.

"I'm not getting beat by a carrot headed prick like you!" Percy said defiantly.

"Now, don't you talk to me that way, boy. I am the _law, _and I don't need your permission."

"I can run quick. You won't be able to catch me."

Darius laughed. The sound was just as loud and piercing as the alarm that had blasted throughout the entire Village up until Cecille had shut it off just a few minutes ago.

"I'm just messing with you, boy! I ain't really gonna beat you!"

"You're not?" My brother asked, heaving a great sigh of relief.

"No, boy," he said. "I ain't that kind of peacekeeper! I just wanted you to learn your lesson."

"Yeah, yeah I got it," my brother answered, still stricken with fright.

"And hey, listen, if you want a drink, just come down to the pub," the Peacekeeper said in a hushed voice. "I'll buy you one."

"But I thought that pub is only for Peacekeepers?"

"I can bring in a friend if I want," Darius said, a wide grin appearing on his face.

"I'm your friend?" my brother exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yeah, why not?"

"Alright!" he cheered. "You hear that? I'm friends with a peacekeeper!" he gloated to me, before turning to face his new friend. "What's your name again?"

"Darius."

"Percy," my brother said offering his hand once more and this time the Peacekeeper shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Percy," he said. "Now how about we go to the pub and break this bottle open, eh?"

"Alright!"

"Your friends can't come though," he said glancing towards us. "They're too young."

"You heard him!" he said, turning to me and Joey. "Scram!"

"We're not cats!" Joey yelled back.

"I don't care! Get lost!"

Joey made a face at him, and then we both headed home.

* * *

><p><strong>So...I made the Peacekeepers Hicks. That was pretty much the only accent I could think of that I could adequately describe in written form. Hope you like it! :P<strong>


	57. Peacekeeper's Alley

**A/N**

**I'm taking a little detour to do some of these flashback chapters from Peeta's childhood, but I PROMISE they will all tie back into the overall plot with Katniss. I PROMISE there will be a lot of K/P romance that will follow the whole flashback series ;)**

**I just need time to introduce and develop some of these new (and renovated) characters (Joey, Percy, Darius, Cecille...they'll all play a role in the future!) So I really hope you don't mind the Background overhaul for now!**

**PS: For those of you who are not such big fans of the whole flashback series, I hear your pleas, and will do my best to condense the chapters I had planned as much as possible. But believe me all these chapters are necessary in the long run, so you'll know whats going on in the future. So please be patient!**

* * *

><p>"Your brother is such a jerk!" Joey lamented to me with a shake of his head. "After all that we did for him today, he still treats us like trash! He doesn't even thank us for staying with him! We could've gotten arrested today!"<p>

"He's grateful," I assured. "He just has a different way of showing it."

My friend shook his head in disagreement.

"You always see the good in everyone," he said. "But some people, they don't have any good in them at all."

I didn't agree with him. My brother had some good in him. He just wasn't very good at showing it to everyone.

I knew there was no point in arguing with Joey. We were both tired, and after the way Percy treated us tonight there was no way I could convince him to think otherwise.

"Now we're going to get home late, and get in trouble, just because of him."

I knew Joey wouldn't really get in trouble. His mom was my favorite aunt and possibly the sweetest woman I'd ever known. She would never beat him. It was me he was really worried about.

I knew I'd probably have a beating to look forward to when I came home. That's how it always was if I got home after it was dark.

But it was worth it. At least I knew my brother was safe.

When I got home, my mother asked me where my brother was.

"I don't know," I said.

I wasn't about to tell her that he was at the pub. And I definitely wasn't going to tell her that a Peacekeeper took him there.

My mother slapped me.

"Don't you lie to me," she growled. She could always tell when I was lying. When I'd lie, she'd hit me. She said lying was a bad habit to have.

She sent me upstairs without supper. She always did that, thinking I'd get hungry eventually and then tell her where my brother was. But I didn't. I usually just fell asleep.

When I woke up, I heard noises coming from the first floor. My brother had come home finally. And he was drunk.

I could hear my mother screaming at him.

I could hear him saying things to anger her, egging her on. He was drunk so he was even worse than usual. He was shouting things that he would normally never dare to say.

There was nothing I could do about it. He was digging his own grave.

I could hear everything from my room. The walls were so thin.

I snuck downstairs to the basement, where all the noises were blocked out by the sturdy walls that held up our house. I didn't stop until I had run through every room in the basement, and reached the furthermost closet. I locked the door, and sat there in the darkness, with my knees buckled up to my chest, waiting for it all to be over.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Percy was as chipper as ever, despite the terrible beating he had endured at my mother's hand. This time, my father couldn't even argue with my mother that Percy didn't deserve the punishment he got, after she explained to him that his thirteen year old son came home drunk, after having mutilated our only Victor's home.<p>

My father had a long talk with Percy and he agreed to let him go to the pub on the weekends, only if he completed all his work at the bakery and finished all his chores during the week. That got Percy to be a little more dedicated to his work.

But the next day, of course, Percy wasn't working, because he was too busy recounting stories from his night at the pub.

_Peacekeeper's Alley_ is what they called it. It was strictly speaking only for Peacekeepers, so even Patrick had never stepped foot in the place before.

Besides the Peacekeepers, no one entered the pub except Haymitch and the Seam people who worked there.

"They have the funniest accents!" Percy exclaimed, as he went on to imitate the Peacekeepers' district two accent. "I'm Darius. Don't you mess with me, boy! Cause I _am_ the law. And as long as I'm wearing this uniform, everybody will love me. Especially the ladies! The ladies looove them some Darius!"

I laughed at his imitation, because that was really how he sounded.

"Pat you should have seen him!" my brother blurted out excitedly. "He had women all over him, just throwing themselves at him!"

"They're all Seam women, right?" Patrick asked knowingly.

"Looks like it!" Percy answered.

"That means they're all Cray's women!"

"They're prostitutes?" Percy shouted, laughing loudly. "And I thought they were just there to bring the drinks over."

"Shh," my older brother chided silently, motioning over to where I was focused on working on my cookies.

Having realized I just heard something that I shouldn't have, my ears immediately perked up.

"What's a prostitute?" I asked.

"Just a type of dancer," my brother answered, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"The type that dance on top of you. Naked," Percy snickered.

"Oh, shut up!" my brother scolded him. "You're thirteen. How do you even know these things?"

"Kevin told me!"

"You need to stop hanging around Kevin."

"I'm not hanging around him anymore. You know that prick left me all alone last night. But I don't need him. I got a new friend now. Darius."

"That's even worse."

"No, he's so cool! He introduced me to everyone he knew. He let me drink, and deal the cards, and he even let me smoke his cigar!"

"Did he let you hold his ashtray too?" Patrick said with a sarcastic smile.

"No," my brother retorted. "Anyway, they had a cockfight. Everyone placed their bets, and then the turkeys began to fight. They were pecking each other's eyes out, and everyone was cheering, and it was so incredible!"

He took a moment to catch his breath before continuing with a sense of awe in his voice.

"Is that how it feels when you're in the ring, fighting someone in a wrestling match?"

"Sure," Patrick answered. "Except we're not pecking each other's eyes out. And we're probably not as confused as the turkeys are."

Pat was the reigning champion of the district 12 wrestling competition, and Percy always wanted to follow in his footsteps.

"I told Darius I had a pet turkey already," Percy said. "He said if I train him, he'd let me compete!"

"You're going to put Charlie in a cockfight?" I cried out in protest.

"Yeah! I'm going to make so much money off him!" he laughed wildly.

"Is that even legal?" Patrick asked.

"It must be. The Peacekeepers do it. They are the _law_, so whatever they say, _goes!_"

"Alright," my older brother conceded. "Just don't tell mom, because around here, she's the law."

"I can't wait until I start making money off this cockfighting thing. Then I can save up and finally open up my own business. And I won't have mom breathing down my back anymore!"

He hated working in the bakery. He wasn't really good at it, and my mother always scolded and beated him for it.

"You need a lot of money to start your own business," Pat reminded him.

He was right. It was pretty much impossible to start your own business in district 12. That's why miners from the Seam never tried to open up their own shops in town. It was too expensive, and nobody had the money for it.

"I know," Percy said. "That's why I'll place really high bets when I put Charlie in the ring. All those Peacekeepers are rich. They have enough money to spare!"

"Charlie won't get hurt?" I asked.

"I hope not. The longer he lasts, the more money I make."

"Remember—you promised you wouldn't do anything to kill him!"

"All I'm going to do is train him and feed him pellets, same as you did!"

"Yeah except the competition _I_ was training him for, didn't have a bunch of turkeys trying to peck his eyes out!"

"Don't worry," my brother assured me. "After I train him, he'll be the one doing all the pecking. All the other turkeys will be scared of him," he said with a laugh.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Btw this background is very central to the story, because we already know about Katniss' background, but we don't really know much about Peeta. What his childhood was like, what's important to him, who he values in his life, etc. All that needs to be revealed, BEFORE Katniss and Peeta fall in love.**

**I want Katniss to fall in love with a real person, and not just some cookie cutter image of what a perfect man should be—with no past, and no soul.**

**So, first, I have to introduce who **_**I**_** think Peeta is. And all these chapters are creating that image I have of him, and sharing it with you! :)**


	58. Wrestling Team

My first fight with Percy was when Charlie died.

Charlie had been fighting for a good couple of months before he finally kicked the bucket.

Percy had been right. The turkey had a lot of fight in him. After Percy had trained him, he became known as the 'Little King of the Ring'—or at least that's what the Peacekeepers liked to call him. Charlie lasted a long time. And Percy made a lot of money off of him. Some of the Peacekeepers wanted to buy Charlie from Percy, but he refused to sell him.

I helped Percy train Charlie, and always took care of him when Percy wasn't around.

But all winning streaks must come to an end. Eventually the turkey grew old, and a newer, stronger opponent took his place.

When Charlie died, I wanted to bury him. He was an old friend, after all. But Percy wanted to sell him to the butcher to make some more money.

"You already made so much money off of him!" I cried in protest. "Why can't you just let him be?"

"Do you know how much Aunt Rooba offered me for that damned turkey? I am not about to turn that down just so you could bury your stupid little friend!"

"He's not stupid!" I yelled back, furiously.

"Yes, he is! And he's _mine_, so I'll do what I want with him, got it bonehead?"

He gave me a forceful shove, as he walked away.

_Fight back, _I heard Joey's voice in my head.

"I won't let you sell him!" I cried running after him, emboldened by the rage coursing through me. I yanked at his arm, forcing him to a halt.

"Get off me!" he snarled giving me strong push to drive me away.

But I was so enraged that, this time, I pushed him back.

He hadn't expected me to retaliate and was slightly taken aback. Yet he reacted quickly enough. He grabbed me by the ear, so forcefully that I could feel his nails digging into my skin. I slapped him off, but that only made him hit me even harder.

He punched me right in the jaw, causing my mouth to start bleeding, the pain searing all through my body.

But that only provoked my anger even further, and so I tackled him, throwing myself at him with all my might. He shoved me backward, so hard that I landed in the mud on the ground. He started to kick me, but I caught his leg in my hands and dragged him down with me.

He punched me again, and I retaliated by punching him right back. Soon, we were both rolling around in the mud, throwing punches at each other, and clawing at each other's throats.

It wasn't long before my father came to split us up. He pulled Percy off me and forced us to talk it out until we reached a compromise. In the end, we decided to sell the turkey and split the money between the both of us.

My father convinced me that the turkey would serve a better purpose feeding the starving bellies of a depraved family in the Seam rather than rotting away in our backyard, with nothing but the crows feasting on it.

He told me of all the starving children in the Seam who needed the turkey more than I did, and I automatically thought of Katniss, hungry and on the verge of dying. I had never seen her in this state, at least not yet, but just the image was enough to scare me.

"I don't want them to starve, dad," I said, frightened on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry, they won't," my father assured me. "Not once they have this large turkey on their table. We have to help the less fortunate, son. Even if that means giving up something that we love."

I didn't mind giving up Charlie if I knew it would help bring a family out of starvation—especially if that was Katniss' family. I never wanted to see her starve.

"Why don't you take the money you'll earn, and buy yourself a namesake to remember him by," my father suggested. "That way you'll always have something to remind you of Charlie."

I nodded, and a smile formed on my face just as soon as I thought of what I wanted to buy. The next day I went to the store and bought a can of paints and the cheapest type of paper that I could afford from the money I had made by selling my turkey. I painted a picture of Charlie, and hung it up on my wall.

My brother Percy and I shared a room, so when he saw the picture hanging on my wall, he tore it down. He made fun of me for painting a picture of my pet, and shred it up into little pieces. We got into another fight, and this time our mom broke us up, grounding each of us for a week. From then on, I learned to hide all my paintings from Percy.

But that wasn't the last of our fights.

Despite what Joey said, fighting back didn't make Percy stop taunting me. It only made things worse. We began to get into fights over everything, even the smallest things. My mother would punish us whenever she found us going at it, but that didn't stop us.

At first, I wasn't too good at fighting, and my brother would win almost every time. But soon, after suffering many painful defeats, I got better at it. And by the time I had signed up for wrestling classes, I already knew how to fight.

All the merchant families signed up their boys for wrestling classes once they had come of age. Usually that was at around eleven, so they would have enough time to prepare before their very first reaping. The best fighters in the class would get selected to join the wrestling team, and then they were able to compete in the annual wrestling competition.

Percy was inducted to participate in the wrestling competition during his very first year, just like my older brother had before him. He was really good at fighting, and had even ranked in the top ten, which was very good for a first year.

By the time I turned twelve, I had only been on the wrestling team for a few short months, but I had already made many friends on the team, and had successfully defeated most of the boys my age during practices.

I guess fighting with Percy all the time really helped me gain an edge over the other boys, who had never fought before in their lives.

Since I did so well fighting against boys my age, Coach set me up to fight with older boys during practices.

My first fight with an older boy was with my cousin Jesse, who was thirteen. He was a lot bigger than me, but he was the weakest fighter out of all the boys his age, and that's why Coach set me up to fight with him first.

"Hey, Peeta," Jessie called out to me with a huge grin on his face. "You ready to lose?"

"No, you're so much better at it than I am," I teased with a shrug. "I figure I'd leave it to the experts."

I heard some snickers around me as the other boys caught wind of our conversation.

"Oh come on. Look at you! You're so small," he taunted. "Do you really think you're going to beat _me_?"

"Who knows? It might be my lucky day."

"We didn't even start fighting and you've already got a bruise on your arm," he laughed pointing at the shiner my mom had given me the day before.

"It's nothing," I said giving a casual shrug. "Just fell during soccer practice."

"Can't even stay up on your feet, can you?" he teased. "Poor, clumsy, Peeta!"

"Not as clumsy as _you're_ going to be after I'm through with you," I joked.

Jesse had experience fighting, being a part of Percy's gang. They would always find some random Seam boy to pick on when they got bored. But wrestling wasn't the same as street fighting. There were certain rules you had to follow, and out of all the boys on the team, Jesse was the least dedicated to learning the rules.

But his biggest problem was thinking of a strategy before getting into a fight. He always had his buddies around him whenever they would pick on someone in the school hallways. So he didn't really have to think of a game plan, since he knew his friends always had his back. And what he was even worse at, was thinking of what his opponent's strategy might be.

He always underestimated his opponent.

Which is why I decided that for my first fight with Jessie, I would implement a surprise attack. He wouldn't see it coming, and he definitely wouldn't know what to do once it happened.

The minute the bell sounded to signal the start of the fight, Jessie pounced at me, trying to use his brute strength to gain an advantage over me. But I ducked out of the way just in time. He wasn't expecting that, so he lost focus for a second, and that was all it took for me to pummel him down to the ground. It was a fairly quick struggle.

After the fight, Jesse gripped my hand and shook it cordially.

"Good fight, Peeta," he grinned affably at me. "Beginner's luck, eh?"

Despite all the bullying, Jessie was actually a pretty cool guy. He was friends with me and most of the other merchant children. The only reason he picked on the Seam kids was because his mother was always saying awful things about them, just like my mother.

They were sisters so it explained why they both shared the same hatred for the Seam. And they passed it on to their children.

Except Jesse's mother never beat him like my mom did. She spoiled him, just like the rest of her kids. I knew because my mom was always complaining about that.

But other than that, he made a pretty decent friend. He was on the soccer team with me and was always a supportive team player.

The other boys were supportive as well, and cheered when I had won. They were surprised that a first year could trump an older boy so quickly. But I was used to fighting an older boy who was a lot stronger and cleverer than Jessie.

Percy might not act very smart, but one thing he was good at was strategy—especially when it came to fighting. He used his head, and he followed the rules, which was something I'd honestly never seen him do before.

Slowly he climbed his way up the charts during the first two years he spent on the wrestling team, and by the end of his second year he was already in the top five.

One thing I learned from Percy was to always figure out someone's weaknesses before you fight them, because that's how you determine what your strengths have to be.

But he didn't tell me that. He never told me anything that would help me win him in a fight. I learned that myself from all the times he would pick fights with me. I saw what tactics he used, and I learned how to use them too.

It wasn't long before I determined the weaknesses of pretty much all the boys on the team. One by one, I observed them, and trumped them during practice rounds.

I still had a long way to go before I could get to Percy's level, but I was gaining respect and recognition from the boys and even the Coach.

Coach said I was a shoo-in for the competition, and if I entered as a rookie, I'd have a chance at placing in the finals.

But as soon as I started winning rounds, Percy started picking fights with me.

"Think you're as good as your older brother now, don't you?" he taunted, giving me a shove. "Think you can challenge me?"

"I don't want to challenge you," I said defensively. We were in our wrestling class, surrounded by all of our classmates. I didn't want to start a fight there.

"Oh, what—you're scared?" he prodded mockingly. "Is the little baby afraid that his older brother is going to beat him?"

I felt my face flush with embarrassment, as he continued throwing his insults at me in front of all the boys to see. But I didn't dare say anything back to him. I didn't want to start a fight with him, not in front of all our friends.

"Come on and fight me, you little pansy!" he roared, taking me by the scruff of my neck and forcing me into the ring with him.

It wasn't a fair fight. He obviously had the greater advantage over me. He was bigger, and stronger, and had been on the team for two years longer than I had. It didn't take him long to overpower me and bring me down to my knees.

And when he did, he delivered a heavy blow right to my chin, sending my entire body flying down to where my blood drenched face met the surface of the cold blue mat.

It was as if he _needed_ to show everybody that he was stronger than me.

"You afraid of a little pain, huh, brother?" he jeered. "Well, you better get used to it," he spat menacingly. "Your name's going to be in the reaping soon."

The whole room grew silent at the mention of the reaping. All the first years were dreading the day that their names would get thrown into the awful games.

"And if you get picked," he continued with smug grin on his face. "Oh boy, are you going to get slaughtered!" he exclaimed, as a scornful cackle escaped his lips.

He delivered a final blow to my belly, and the fight was over.

I noticed the boys on the team kept their distance from me from that day on.

They would still talk and act friendly towards me during class and soccer practices, but they wouldn't dare approach me when Percy was around.

_He took my friends away._

And for that I hated him.

I didn't dare challenge him to another fight. Not in front of everybody. I knew I'd just get crushed again if I did. So instead, I took my anger out on the punching bag every morning during practice.

In my mind, _he _was that punching bag.


	59. Apples

**A/N**

**So we've all heard Katniss' story about the boy with the bread. But what was Peeta's take on this story?**

**Read and find out! ;)**

* * *

><p>A month had gone by and the boys on the wrestling team were still ignoring me.<p>

Since most of the boys stayed away from me during practice, I had more time to myself, and I spent that time improving my fighting techniques, and building up my strength. During the last month, I had improved more than I ever had before, yet Percy still kept on taunting me.

While everyone else would spend their free time during practice talking and joking around with each other, I'd spend it by the punching bags, practicing my throws.

"Aw, look at him, he's so cute!" I heard my brother gush mockingly from the other side of the room. "He actually thinks he's good."

I heard laughter erupt from his side of the room.

"Hey, half-brain!" he called out to me. "You hit like a girl!"

_I do _not_ hit like a girl._

I furrowed my eyebrows in agitation but didn't say anything as I set my gaze firmly on the punching bag before me and gave it another hard thwack.

"Girls aren't allowed to compete, you know. So you might as well just give up now," he added, making some of the boys snicker in amusement. "You're only getting worse!"

I had actually gotten better. A lot better. I was beating older boys in matches left and right, so I had no idea what he was talking about.

And I definitely didn't hit like a _girl_.

He was only saying to make me feel bad and make me lose track of my focus. But I wouldn't let him have that satisfaction.

I ignored him and continued to beat the bag with all my might, relishing the pain each swing brought as my fist made contact with the rubber tube, and sent it flying through the air. I knew the burn I felt in my arms was only evidence of my strength growing by the day.

Now that I wasn't talking to my teammates during practices, it made it easier for me to knock them out during fights. Them ignoring me played out in my favor in the end.

Besides, I realized I didn't really care about the other boys, as long as I had Joey with me.

Unlike the rest of my teammates, Joey never abandoned me. He continued talking to me despite Percy's threats, insisting that he wasn't afraid of a guy who couldn't tie his own shoelaces.

Joey wasn't too good at fighting when he first started. He didn't have any brothers so he never really had anyone he could practice fighting with. But I practiced with him everyday and taught him everything I knew. Before long, he was just as good as I was.

After a couple months, Coach told us we were both eligible to sign up for the competition. But after thinking it over, I finally decided that I didn't want to do it.

"But you have to!" my best friend exclaimed. "You're the best one our age!"

"I can't," I answered simply. "If I do, then Percy will get mad at me. He'll think I'm trying to steal his spotlight, and then he'll pick on me even _more_!"

"Oh, come on!" Joey admonished. "You can't let him stop you! Coach said you're a shoo-in for finals!"

"It's not just Percy," I explained. "If he gets angry at me, then half of the team turns on me too. Didn't you notice they all stopped talking to me, ever since the fight?"

"So, challenge him again!" my friend suggested. "You've gotten a lot better. You can take him."

"I'm not nearly as good as he is!" I remarked.

"Maybe you'll get lucky," he proposed. "The only way you'll ever get them to respect you is if you beat him at his own game!"

Maybe I could win. By some off chance piece of luck. But then I thought about what that would do to Percy. How our teammates would react if he lost a round to his little brother.

"But then they'll lose all respect for _him_."

"Who cares? He probably deserves it anyway."

"I can't do that to him," I said shaking my head. "This wrestling team is all he's got. It's all he's good at really."

"You're right about that," he said laughing wildly. "He isn't good at much else."

"I mean he sucks at school. He's failing almost every class. He can barely bake," I reasoned. "Yesterday my mom told him that the neighbor's cat could do a better job than him."

Joey cracked up.

"His rankings on the wrestling team are pretty much the only thing he's got going for him. It's the only thing my mother's ever been proud of him for!"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Buddy. Just don't be sore about it when I rank in the top 10 and you're not up there with me," he teased.

"Don't worry. I wont regret it," I maintained. "I don't really need to be ranked, as long as I'm getting the practice I need."

"But what about _Katniss_—" he began in a sing-songy voice.

"Shh!" I said quickly shushing him. I cast a glance both ways to make sure that nobody in the locker room was listening in on our conversation.

"Wasn't there a certain girl you were trying to impress by ranking in the top 10?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, but I doubt she'll be there to see me compete," I whispered ruefully.

I thought that maybe if I entered the competition and placed in the top ranks, that would get her to notice me.

"Her family can't even afford food right now," I continued in a hushed voice. "Much less tickets to see the show."

It had been two months since Katniss' father had died in the mining accident.

For the first month nothing seemed to change, except Katniss seemed a little more withdrawn from class than she usually was. She stopped drawing flowers in her notebook. She'd just stare blankly out the window, as if wishing she were somewhere else.

"I wish I could say something to make her feel better," I confessed helplessly to my best friend. But even he didn't know what I could say to her. We were used to kids dying. Not parents.

Eventually, I started noticing changes in Katniss. She stopped talking to the few friends she had in class. She stopped playing games with the other Seam children during recess. She never even laughed or smiled anymore.

I overheard my parents mentioning that all the families in the Seam who lost someone in the mining accident would get compensated for their losses.

But the compensation would only last a month. After that, they were on their own.

By the second month, I'd noticed that Katniss stopped bringing in her lunch to school. She didn't even bring the apple she always ate during snack time.

Sometimes she didn't come in to school at all. On the days she showed up to class, she looked so pale and sickly, that it worried me.

I always assumed Katniss' mother would be able to find a job to support them. After all, she was the only doctor in the Seam. She must have a lot of patients, I thought, at least enough to provide food for her family.

But soon I realized that Katniss' family was having a harder time putting food on the table than I thought.

Katniss began losing weight, drastically.

I watched as her health slowly deteriorated, until she was nothing but skin and bones. She'd lost all the weight she'd gained in the past two years, just in the span of one month.

I couldn't bare seeing Katniss, so frail and gaunt from depravity, practically limping from one class to another. Seeing her like that scared me and reminded me of what my father had told me about Seam children who would sometimes die from not getting enough food.

Just the thought of her dying terrified me, and I desperately wanted to do something to help her.

Then I remembered my father telling me that sometimes to help the less fortunate, we had to give up the things that we love.

"Maybe I should give her my lunch," I proposed distraughtly to my friend.

She needed it more than I did. Besides, I'd have a full meal waiting for me at home for dinner. I wasn't even sure if she had dinner at her home anymore.

But Joey didn't think that was a good idea. He told me that people from the Seam didn't like charity. He knew since his family did business with some people from the Seam.

"Whenever they come over, we try to give them food to take home with them, but they always get offended," he explained. "But then my mom gets offended, because she thinks they don't like her cooking!"

He told me that if I was going to give her something, I would have to do it anonymously, otherwise she wouldn't take it.

"Alright, so I'll just put my lunch in her cubby," I said with a shrug. "She'll never know it was me."

"Obviously she'll know that _someone_ gave it to her! Sandwiches don't just randomly appear in people's cubbies!" Joey reasoned with a roll of his eyes.

"You have to give her something that's a little less suspicious," he advised. "Something that's not too expensive."

"How about an apple?" I suggested, lifting the one I had in my lunch bag.

It was a yellow apple. Those were my favorite kinds, because they were so soft and sweet. But Katniss liked green apples.

She brought in a red or yellow apple sometimes but that was very rare. Most of the time I saw her crunching on a big, green apple.

I didn't know why she chose to eat those, since they were so sour. I couldn't stand them.

I always imagined that she liked eating them because green was her favorite color, just like she always chose the color green when we were painting during art class.

I wanted to bring her a green apple, but I didn't have any of those at home. My mother wouldn't buy them because she thought they were cheap and for 'a lower caliber of people'.

So the next morning, I put a yellow apple in my lunch bag and came to school extra early, before anyone else had gotten there. Joey came early too, so nobody would get suspicious.

I stealthily crept up to Katniss' cubby and carefully placed the apple there. Then I walked back to my seat and sat down next to Joey.

When Ryan and Blake came to class they asked us what we were doing there so early.

"None of your business," Joey snapped back secretively. "You guys ignore Peeta all throughout wrestling practice, and now you want to talk to us?"

"Sorry," Blake apologized. "It's nothing personal. We just don't want Percy to beat us up. I mean he's pretty scary."

"Yeah," Ryan adjoined. "He's always going to the pub with Peacekeepers now. I hear about the stuff that goes down there, and it's pretty bad."

"Don't take this the wrong way though—we're still your friends," Blake added with a smile.

Just then the teacher walked in and the class began.

Later on in the day, I noticed that Katniss had finally found the apple in her cubby. I had been watching her closely the entire day to make sure she found it.

But when she did, she didn't eat it.

Instead she brought it up to the teacher's desk and said something to her in her soft, melodic voice that I couldn't hear. The teacher lifted up the apple and asked if it belonged to anyone. No one answered. So then the teacher said something quietly to Katniss, smiled at her and put the apple back in her hand.

Katniss stared at the apple with a confused expression on her face as she walked back down the aisle towards where her cubby was. She left the apple there until the end of the day.

When class was finally dismissed, I saw Katniss hesitantly place the apple in her bag, just as I was about to head out the door with my friends.

I smiled to myself in triumph, having successfully accomplished what I had set out to do.

The next day I brought in another apple. I tried to leave her an apple every other day, whenever I could get to class early enough so that nobody could see me sneaking up to her cubby.

Just like on the first day, she always left the apple sitting untouched in her cubby until the very last minute when the bell rang to signify the end of class. She did that everyday as if she was waiting for somebody to claim it. When no one did, she would pack it away with all her things and take it home with her.

At first I wondered why she didn't just eat the apple during snack time like she always used to. But then one day, I caught a glimpse of her in the hallway, after class had been dismissed. I watched as she fished the apple out from her bag and handed it to her blonde headed little sister. Her sister jumped up gleefully with the apple in her hand. I'd never seen a kid get so excited about an apple before.

Seeing how selfless and giving Katniss was, instantly brought a smile to my face.

She'd rather give her only apple to her sister, than eat it herself.

I was glad to know that she wasn't selfish or greedy. Knowing how sweet she was to her sister, only made me like her even more.

Perhaps it touched me because it was something I knew my own brother would never do for me.

I continued giving Katniss apples for the next two weeks, until one day, my mother grew sick of how early I was going to school. She complained that if I was going to wake up so early, she'd rather that I do some work at the bakery than go to school so I can just sit around and talk with my friends.

After that, I couldn't bring Katniss apples anymore.

Eventually, two weeks had gone by since the last time I had given her an apple.

I noticed that Katniss' health had gotten even worse since then. Her cheeks were sunken, her arms were bony, and her whole body looked emaciated. She looked so much younger than she should at her age. It wasn't long before she stopped coming to school entirely.

The next time I saw her she was rummaging through the garbage pail that stood outside the bakery. At first when I heard my mother yelling at someone to get off our property, I thought it was just a cat or another beggar from the Seam—I didn't think it was Katniss.

I always worried that Katniss' family would be one of those in the Seam that might starve—I even had a nightmare about it once. But I never thought it would really happen. Not like this. Not to the point of imminent death.

So I did what I had to do. I burned those two loaves of bread and I gave them to her.

No—that's what I should have done. I should've given her the bread.

Maybe even squatted down beside her and talked to her. Or invited her inside until the rain had stopped.

But instead I just threw the loaves of bread at her, as if they were pieces of garbage, and she was nothing more than a dirty animal. I hated myself for that. Ever since I did it, I always regretted not coming up to her in the rain and handing it to her.

I kept reliving that moment, over and over again in my head, wishing I had done it right. I felt so guilty about it. I blamed myself for letting her get to that state. I hadn't given her an apple in almost two weeks, and my young twelve-year-old mind reasoned that that must've been the reason why she was now on the brink of death.

The following morning, I came to school early, despite what my mother said, and I left an apple in her cubby. I knew two loaves of bread and an apple wouldn't be enough to sustain her and her family for too long, but I couldn't bring her anything else without my mother or anybody else in the classroom getting suspicious.

Much to my dismay, I didn't see her put the apple in her book bag that day. She just left it in the cubby. I guess the two loaves of bread I had given her were enough to sustain her.

Later that day, I saw her outside the school building, standing where she would always meet her sister after school.

I wanted to talk to her but I didn't know what to say.

I wanted to offer her my help, or maybe some more food, but I didn't want to embarrass her by bringing up what happened the day before.

Then I saw her pick up a dandelion that had been growing from a crack in the ground. She brought the flower close to her nose and smiled. She had a pretty smile. I wished I could see her smile more often.

Just then, I felt a hand smack me across my back.

I turned and saw Joey standing there with Blake and Ryan.

"Let's go, Peeta!" Joey exclaimed. "We've got soccer practice!"

"Ooh, I think Peeta was staring at a _girl_!" Blake murmured teasingly.

"Yeah, whose the girl, Peeta?" Ryan joined simultaneously.

"There's a girl?" Joey said incredulously, playing along. "What girl?"

"There's no girl," I assured them, with a roll of my eyes.

"Oh yeah, then who were you looking at?"

"I wasn't looking at anyone," I argued. "I just fell asleep waiting for you dolts to get here!"

"You fell asleep? With your eyes open?" Ryan contended.

"Yeah, I bet you can't do that!" I challenged.

"No, _I_ can do that!" Joey maintained.

By the end of the week I had noticed that Katniss still hadn't taken the apple out of her cubby. She just let it rot there. The janitor had to come and clean it out because bugs had started to swarm there.

I couldn't understand why she wouldn't take my apple. If she was starving, shouldn't she take whatever food she could find?

Then one day, she came into the bakery with a basketful of strawberries.

She traded them for a loaf of bread and some cookies. I knew my father was being generous because a basket of strawberries normally didn't go for more than half a loaf of bread. But I was happy he did that for her. She needed it.

"Where'd she get those strawberries?" I asked my father quietly after she had left.

"From the woods, son. From the woods."

That's when I realized that Katniss had found another source of nourishment for her family. That's why she hadn't taken my apple from her cubby. She didn't need it anymore.

A proud smile grew on my face as I picked out a ripe strawberry from the basket and bit into it, letting its delicious flavor spill into my mouth.


	60. Competition

By the time the wrestling competition drew near, a whole month had gone by and Katniss' health was improving by the day. She had gained her figure back as well as the color in her cheeks. She still didn't smile as much at school, but I could still glimpse the half-smile that adorned her face when she was with her sister. Her sister had gained weight too, a lot more quickly than she did herself. I suspected Katniss was giving her sister the better half of her spoils.

Every week, Katniss brought in a large batch of berries to the bakery, or other edible fruits that she would find in the forest. As usual, my father would trade her for a loaf of bread and cookies.

Then one week before the competition, I saw Katniss come into the bakery and present my father with a small, very mutilated squirrel. She had shot an arrow through its foot, then seemingly stabbed it until it had died. She made a mess of it, and the animal was bloody all over.

Aunt Rooba had dozens of hunters come to her butcher shop with meat, and she only took the best kind. For those who brought bad catches, she would send them to my father because she knew he would be too kind-hearted to turn them away with nothing.

So Katniss brought her mutilated squirrel to the bakery, and my father traded her two loaves and a handful of cookies for it. After she was gone, he was set on throwing it out in the trash, but I stopped him.

"I want to eat it," I declared in a suddenly. "It'd be waste if you throw it out."

After all, Katniss must have gone through a lot just to catch it.

Percy came over, the awful stench of the animal's dead carcass drawing him near.

"Is that meat?" he asked in a slightly confused voice.

"It's squirrel," I informed him.

"Doesn't look like squirrel," he retorted with a laugh. "I'll still eat it though."

He used to eat meat everyday in the pub, using the money he had made from Charlie's fights and playing cards. He constantly bragged about it to me and Patrick and anyone else who would listen. But eventually he stopped ordering food there, saying that it was too expensive and he had to save up money for his "business".

My father let us eat the squirrel as long as we promised to skin it and soak the blood ourselves. Our mother refused to do it. But my father showed us how, and before long we were roasting the meat into squirrel stew.

I inhaled the delicious smell of the stew as the steam rose up over the pot, and my stomach grumbled. I hadn't eaten meat in days.

I suddenly realized that must have been how Katniss and her family had felt before I had given them the bread. Or why Katniss' little sister had seemed so delighted to see the apple her sister had offered her. Just an apple was as rare in their household as a slab of fresh meat was in ours.

I poured the soup into my plate, and as I slurped the decadent stew from my spoon, I realized that for every apple I had given to Katniss, she had unintentionally paid me back in kind.

"Better eat up, butt-brain," I heard my brother call out as he sat down next me with his own bowl of stew. "The reaping's coming up soon. You better bulk up as much as possible!"

He slurped his soup down noisily, before turning up to me with an evil grin planted on his face.

"You know, what they do to fatties in the arena?" he started. "They stick a spear through them, and then they roast them like a barbecue!"

"And then—" he paused.

His smile grew and I could see a glint of amusement sparkle in his eyes.

"They eat them!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"No they don't!" I rebuffed hastily.

"Yeah, they do," he insisted. "I saw them do it with my own two eyes!"

He'd been watching reruns of old games downstairs in the basement during his free time. He said he was preparing for the reaping just in case he was going to get picked.

"And that's exactly what they're going to do to you, fatty!"

"I'm not fat!" I cried defensively.

"Yeah, you are," he exclaimed pointing a finger at my belly. "Look at you!"

I wasn't really fat, but I stopped exercising ever since I decided I wouldn't be competing in the wrestling competition. My belly area had turned flabby, and I hadn't even thought of the reaping which was only a month away.

"You're so fat you won't even be able to run from the Careers when they come and get you," Percy continued with a laugh. "You'll be an easy kill. Just like this squirrel."

He lifted the bowl to his lips and slurped it down in one efficient gulp.

"Just hope that when they kill you in the arena," Percy started as he wiped his mouth with his hand. "It won't be as messy as it was with this squirrel."

I gulped down fearfully, as he grabbed his empty bowl and headed out the door.

After that, I spent more time at the gym, hoping I could bulk up as much as possible before the reaping. Just in case my brother was right, and I did get reaped. I didn't want to die, like I had seen so many of my cousins die in the arena.

I knew as a twelve year old, I would be no match for an eighteen-year-old Career who had been training his whole life. But knowing I was practicing helped dispel some of the fear I had.

Since I was spending all my time at the gym anyway, I started helping Joey prepare for the competition. I was teaching Joey how to do a defense maneuver I had learned from watching Percy, when all of a sudden he walked in.

"What are you two maggots doing here? Making out?"

"No," Joey shot back heatedly. "We're practicing. For when we're going to whip your butt in the competition!"

Percy snorted. "You think you can take me? Even if I had to go against the both of you, I'd still win. You know why? Because you suck!"

"Oh, yeah?" Joey snapped back. "Well you'll be saying something different next week when we come to take your spot!"

Percy was had placed number four on the ranks the previous year and he was intent on winning first place this year.

"Oh please!" Percy replied. "You won't even place in the finals. All you'll be doing is crying. Just like the last time I beat you."

I started chewing the inside of my cheek anxiously. I didn't want to admit that I hadn't signed up for the competition yet.

"Except this time, Peeta," Percy added with a triumphant smile on his face. "It won't just be the wrestling team that will watch you get crushed by me. It will be everyone in the whole town."

"I'm not competing," I said the finality clear in my voice.

"Why?" Percy sneered. "Are you too scared to fight me after what happened last time?"

"I'm not scared!" I shouted through gritted teeth.

"Then why don't you sign up, huh?" he asked tauntingly. "Or are you too afraid that you'll lose all your friends, after you get pulverized by me—again?"

"Fine! I'll sign up," I replied angrily.

"Good," he smirked. "I can't wait to slaughter you in the ring."

At that point, both Joey and I wanted a chance to fight Percy. But we knew that since we were both rookies, we'd have to fight each other first. Once we got into the top ten we could get a chance to fight Percy, as well as a small monetary reward for making it into the finals. But the money wasn't what was motivating us.

For the rest of the week, we practiced every day after school and after work, until both of us had gotten in shape for the competition. Joey was learning quickly, but I knew that once we would step into the ring, I'd have the greater chance in winning.

"Hey, no matter who wins, we're still best buds, right?" I said extending my arm to him.

"Of course," Joey replied. "But whoever wins has to promise to kick Percy's butt!"

We both laughed and shook on it.

I wanted a chance to fight Percy in the ring. I wanted to make him pay for all the pain he put me through the past couple of months. And I knew that Joey wouldn't be mad at me if I won the fight. He'd be happy for me. In fact, he'd be cheering me on and telling me that I needed to beat Percy once and for all.

But on the day of our wrestling match, I let him win.

There was a moment when Joey had gotten me down on the mat, and then turned around to relish the sound of cheers coming from the audience members. I could have easily jumped on him and taken him down from there.

But then I thought about how Joey had mentioned his parents were having a hard time making ends meet lately.

I loved his parents. They were the best. And they worked so hard. I knew that winning the money would mean more to him than it would to me. So I slouched back down and accepted my defeat.

The plan worked seamlessly. No one seemed to notice that I had given up the fight. Even my mom told me how disappointed she was in me since I didn't make the top ten.

But Percy wasn't fooled.

"You threw the fight, didn't you?" he asked suspiciously, when we had gotten home from the wrestling match.

"No," I denied. "Joey won fair and square."

"There's no_ way_ Joey could have beaten you," he asserted. "You're a lot better than he is. You're the one who was teaching him!"

I paused for a moment and stared at him warily. It was the first time he had ever complimented me.

"His family needed the money, alright," I replied tersely.

"Well, he should lose and learn how to fight better," he suggested brutally. "Maybe then he can win the money next year!"

"He needed the money now—not next year!" I replied heatedly. "I was just trying to help him."

"You're not helping him get any better by being _nice_ to him!" my brother retorted angrily. "You think they'll be _nice_ to him in the arena? You think they'll just lie down and let him _win_?"

"This isn't the Games!" I yelled.

"Yeah, well," he replied. "It might as well be."

He scoffed and shook his head at me.

"In one month, either one of us could get reaped, so we might as well prepare for it now."

"He's not going to get reaped," I stated resolutely.

"You know just as well as I do, that he's got a greater chance of getting reaped than either one of us."

I shook my head resolutely. I knew that people in Joey's family had a higher rate of getting picked for the reaping than most families. The Sherwood curse is what people called it. But I didn't want to believe it.

"No," I asserted. "He won't get reaped. You've just been watching those tapes too much!"

"It's not the tapes," he stated. "It's a curse. Everyone knows that!"

"It's not a curse," I snapped. "It's just a stupid coincidence! It doesn't mean anything!"

"It doesn't have to _mean_ anything," he scoffed. "It's going to happen anyway! It happens to every generation of the Sherwood family."

"You're just saying that to scare me," I maintained. "He's my best friend. He can't get reaped. It can't happen!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," he chuckled softly to himself. "Until Gideon got reaped. Then I learned you're better off without any best friends."

_So that's why he teased everyone and treated his friends like trash. He didn't want to get too attached to anyone just in case he would lose them._

"I've got to get ready for tomorrow's fight," he said with a sigh. He grabbed his things and headed to the shower.

I knew then, that if Percy went against Joey in a wrestling match, he wouldn't go easy on him.


	61. Hydrangeas

**A/N**

**Ok, this is a bit of comedic relief, but I promise, this is all leading somewhere!**

**If you don't like reading the background chapters, please just skip it! ;)**

**I'll get to the K/P stuff in about a week!**

* * *

><p>After my match with Joey, the wrestling competition lasted for another two weeks.<p>

Joey got his wish to fight Percy, but only after he beat two other contestants. One of the contestants he had to fight was Jessie, so that was a pretty easy match.

Once he got in the ring with my brother though, Joey couldn't stand a chance. Percy crushed him. Later, Percy told me it was for his own good. He told me that Joey would never learn to get better until he had lost a few rounds.

Still, Joey finished at number eight, which was really good for a first year. He also won enough money to help his family out.

Percy went on to win all of his following matches, until finally, he had won the entire competition.

And once he did, he couldn't stop bragging about it.

"Who's the reigning champ now?" he gloated to Patrick as we all sat in the bakery doing our work.

"That's only because I dropped out," my older brother said rolling his eyes. "If I was still in the running you wouldn't stand a chance."

"Then you shouldn't have dropped out," Percy shot back. "I've been waiting for a chance to beat you ever since I joined the wrestling team."

"I already told you. I need to focus on the bakery," he explained. "Dad already started paying me, so it's a real job now. I can't keep fooling around like you two."

That wasn't the real reason he dropped out. He told me he did it so that Percy could get a chance to win. Percy's victory in the competition was the only thing my mom had ever been proud of him for.

"Besides," Pat added with a smile. "I'd crush you."

"No you wouldn't," Percy retorted. "I beat all the guys on the team, even the ones older than me—I could've easily beaten you!"

"The other guys on the team didn't win three years in a row," I said reminding him of Pat's legacy. I knew Pat was too humble to do it himself.

"You've only got one victory under your belt," Pat added. "Don't get too ahead of yourself."

"I'll have a winning streak to match yours one day," Percy promised. "Until then, I'll just enjoy all this money I've got!"

The winner of the wrestling competition won a vast amount of money. Not nearly as much as Victors won, but it was enough to feed a family of four for about two months. Each year, Patrick put his winnings back into the bakery to help the family out. He tried to convince Percy to do the same but he refused.

"I told you already," Percy said. "I need this money to save up for my business. I don't want to spend the rest of my life working in this stupid bakery with mom bossing me around."

Patrick just shook his head despondently.

"You're not going to have enough to start your own business," he said.

"I have the money from the winnings," Percy countered back. "And all the money I made in the pub."

"That's not enough," Patrick sighed. "Why do you think no one's ever started their own business before?"

"I'll find a way to get the money," Percy stated resolutely.

A few nights later, Percy came home with a black eye.

"What happened to your face?" I asked, watching as he walked in with his grimy shoes leaving dirty prints on the floors. If my mother was still awake this late at night, she would have screamed at Percy for coming upstairs with his dirty shoes on.

"Got into a fight," he replied as he slumped down onto his bed and began pulling his shoes off.

"Again?" I asked. Lately, Percy had been getting into a lot of fights at the pub. I knew he could be irritating sometimes, and often provoked people into fights, but I'd never seen him get beat up this badly before.

I watched as he began searching for something in his shoe.

"This time," he said, pulling out a crumpled wad of paper. "I got paid for it."

"The Peacekeepers pay you to fight?" I asked in surprise.

"If you win," he said as the grin on his face widened. "You don't get anything if you lose."

"That's a lot of money," I said. Certainly more than I had ever seen.

"I told you about the Peacekeepers. They're all dirty rich. And they get bored when there's no Games and there's nothing to bet on."

He reached for a glass jar that sat on his desk. Apart from the few coins he had gotten as tips for delivering baked goods for some families in town, it was empty.

He dropped his wad of money into the jar, and then sealed it shut.

"Turn around," he said.

"I'm not going to steal your money," I told him.

"Turn around!" he exclaimed once more, and I reluctantly did as he asked.

I knew he'd put the jar in the same place he kept his other jar of money, which was filled with the money he had made on Charlie, and running other errands for the Peacekeepers. The winnings he had earned in the wrestling competition he kept in the bank.

After he was done, I turned around and gazed down at the dirtied floors.

"You'd better clean it," I suggested. "Mom will kill you if she sees it."

"Yeah, she'll be pretty pissed, huh?" he said, his mouth cracking into a smile.

"If you bring the mop, I'll clean it," I offered. I didn't want to see him get beat in the morning.

"No, leave it," he insisted. "She'll be so annoyed. I want to see the look on her stupid face when she sees I got her perfect floors all messed up."

He laughed.

"Oh, come on," he said when he noticed the worried look on my face. "You won't get beat. It's _my_ shoes. She'll know it wasn't you."

But I didn't want him to get beat either.

I didn't tell him anything though. I knew he'd make fun of me if I did.

The next morning, I woke up to the screeching sound of my mother's voice. She scolded my brother until my father came and calmed her down. He told her that Percy would clean up the mess he made. But once my father left, she beat him. Then she told Percy to clean up, but he didn't. They both left and I cleaned up for him.

Percy didn't come back home all day. It wasn't until very late at night when I heard someone singing outside on our front lawn. I peeked out my window and saw Percy standing on my mother's favorite hydrangeas.

I quickly ran over to my brother Patrick's room and woke him up. Together we went downstairs to fetch our brother.

As we came nearer, Percy's singing only got worse, and we noticed that he hadn't just been standing on my mother's well-cropped hydrangeas—he was peeing on them.

"What do you think you're doing?" my brother yelled at him. "Put your pants back on!"

"No!" Percy shouted defiantly. "I hate these stupid hydrangeas!"

His breath reeked of alcohol.

"Mom never beats these damn hydrangeas! She never screams at them!" he went on in a slurred voice. "She loves these stupid flowers more than she loves us!"

"You're an idiot!" Pat admonished. "Can't you see you're stinking up the place? This isn't just mom's garden—It's yours too!"

"Shh!" I said shushing both of them. "You'll wake up mom and dad."

Percy was about to retort, but Patrick placed a hand over his mouth, quickly quieting him.

Then Patrick and I dragged Percy back in the house. We took off his shoes and put them away before hauling our stumbling brother up the stairs.

The next morning Percy woke up with a hangover. I asked him if he had won any money the night before. He told me he hadn't.

"You can't win fights when you're drunk, doofus!"

"Then don't drink," I suggested. "You'll make more money that way."

"I don't need your advice!" he shot back angrily.

But after that, I noticed he stopped coming home drunk. Instead he brought more money home.

After about a month, Percy's money jar was quickly filling up.

By the time it was full, my first reaping day was right around the corner. In fact, it was only a day away.


	62. Baseball Bat

The day before the reaping was a pretty busy day for us in the bakery. Everyone wanted to buy a loaf of bread or a package of cookies so they could celebrate what might be the last day they'd spend with their families.

It had been a hectic week for us. We had prepared twice as many goods for that week, and sales were going fast. I had to refill the displays almost every hour.

Percy as usual, wasn't doing any work. Instead, he was at the counter flirting with another girl. This time it was Delly's older sister, Nancy. She had come to fetch baked goods for her family before dinnertime when everyone in town would have a traditional meal with their families.

"What are you doing later today?" Percy asked as he rang up her purchase.

"My parents gave me the day off, seeing as how it's the day before the reaping and all," she informed him glumly.

Her family owned the beauty shop. It was closed that day, as usual. No one really needed to buy shampoo the day before the reaping.

"It's pretty scary, isn't it?" Percy whispered. "Tomorrow one of us might get reaped."

"I know," Nancy replied. "I can't stop thinking about it."

I couldn't really see them since I was working on the display in the front of the store, but I could hear them. I knew that my brother was probably leaning in closer as he sighed and continued in a hushed voice.

"You know, the thing that scares me most is that if I get reaped, I might never see you again."

"Oh, Percy," she giggled. "You're sweet, but you don't really mean that."

"No, I'm serious," he replied. "If I die, I'd hate it if I never got a chance to be with you."

"But you won't die Percy," she insisted. "You're the best fighter this town's got. You're the best I've seen."

"I know," Percy agreed. "But there are monsters out there, that even I can't fight."

He paused for a moment, before continuing.

"If this was my last night here, I'd only want to spend it with you."

"Really?" Nancy said.

"Yeah," I heard Percy reply. "So—will you go out with me?"

"Alright," Nancy agreed. "Pick me up in half an hour. I have to be home early today."

Nancy said goodbye to Percy and me and then headed home.

"And that is how you pick up girls!" Percy exclaimed proudly, as soon as Nancy had stepped out the door.

"By lying to them?" I asked, with a roll of my eyes.

"No. By flattering them," he corrected. "There's a difference."

"_If this was my last night, I'd only want to spend it with you_,_"_ I imitated him in my best sugary sweet voice. "Sounds like a lie to me!"

"It might be true!" my brother countered defensively. "If I get reaped and I die, I'd want to spend my last night getting laid!"

"You're _not_ going to get laid," I scoffed at him.

"Yeah, I am," he replied. "Girls are always extra horny before the reaping."

The door to the backroom swung open, and my mother stepped into the room with one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face.

"Working are we?" she asked.

"Yeah," my brother replied quickly with a guilty look on his face. "I've been taking care of the customers."

"Well I'm here now. I can take care of the front. _You_ have some cleaning to do," she said handing him a mop.

He took the mop with a defiant look on his face. He hated being treated like a janitor. He said cleaning duties were something for Seam people to do.

"After you're done, I want you to clean out all the pans and wash the dishes," she said.

He groaned at the added list of duties.

"But, mom, I don't have time to clean up right now," he said. "I have a _date_."

"A date? You have a job to do," she snapped back furiously. "Everyone in this house has a job to do. And if you don't pull your weight around this house, I'll find another way to compensate for you."

Both Percy and I knew that meant taking out more tesserae in our names. She always threatened to do that when we would act up and beating wouldn't work.

"You've got to earn your keep somehow," she added coldly. She gave us each a list of duties to do, and then sent us both to the back, while she watched the front.

As soon as we stepped into the backroom, my brother said he was leaving.

"You can't leave!" I exclaimed. "You heard what mom said!"

"So?" he snorted. "I'm not going to miss an opportunity to take Nancy Cartwright to the Slag Heap just so I can sit here and wipe the floors clean!"

"If you don't do it, you _know_ what mom will do!"

"Then you'll cover for me, won't you?"

He knew I wouldn't say no. He knew I never wanted to see him get reaped.

I nodded my head and let out a reluctant sigh.

"Thanks," he said flashing me a contrived smile as he quickly sped out the door.

That was the only time he was ever nice to me. When he needed me to do a favor for him.

I had planned on playing soccer with my friends after my shift was over. Pretty much everyone closed their shops the day before the reaping, so all the children were already out playing. I wanted to join them later in the afternoon if I had time.

_But I guess that won't be happening._

I sighed despondently and started to work on the five loaves of bread I had to make.

_Stupid Nancy Cartwright and her stupid date!_

An hour had gone by and I was almost onto my last loaf of bread, when the door to the backroom swung open and Joey rushed in.

"I came as fast—as I could," he panted, trying to catch his breath.

I just laughed at how frazzled he looked.

"Look what I finished!" he exclaimed happily, holding up a sleek wooden bat in his hand. "I polished it and everything!"

A while back while Joey and I were rummaging through my grandfather's old stuff in the basement, we found what we thought was a really small soccer ball. Except it didn't have any black and white patterns on it, only a set of tiny red stitches in it, and a sloppily signed signature.

We didn't really know what to do with it, because it was too small to kick around like a soccer ball. So we tried throwing at each other and that worked fine for a while until we got bored.

Then one day I found a picture of my grandfather as a child holding a ball just like this. I saw he also held up a long wooden shaft in his other hand. We looked through more of his pictures, until finally we decided that the wooden shaft and ball had to be connected somehow.

So then we took the ball and the picture to our friend Ryan's shop. His family owned a sports, games, and arts shop. We asked Ryan's dad what game the ball and wooden shaft were used for. He explained that it was used for an archaic game called baseball which was played even before the Dark Ages. He said the wooden shaft was called a baseball bat and that he didn't sell any in his shop. They hadn't sold them for decades.

Still, we asked Ryan's dad how to play the game and he told us. It seemed pretty fun so Joey and I decided we would build a bat on our own. After all, Joey's parents owned the wood shop, so we had all the wood we could want at our disposal.

We looked at pictures and drew up sketches of the bat, until we had gotten down the shape. Then we started to carve it out of wood, which was pretty easy to do since Joey had been working with wood for the past three years already.

Then we continued to work on the bat until we had created one that was the right size and shape to send the ball catapulting through the sky, just like Ryan's dad had described. When we were done, I left the bat at Joey's house so he could sand it down and finish it up.

Now that Joey had finally finished the bat and even polished and painted it, he was eager to use it.

"Come on," he urged. "We have to go now! What are you still doing here?"

"I have to clean up the backroom," I replied sullenly.

"No you don't! That's Percy's job," he asserted.

"Percy went on a date," I grumbled. "Guess who got stuck with cleaning duties?"

"Oh come on. Again?" my friend groaned. "Why can't you just let him do his own work for once? If he's a lazy bastard let him get in trouble for it!"

"I can't," I exclaimed bitterly. "You know what my mom will do if she finds out Percy didn't do his work."

Joey heaved a sigh of exasperation.

"Alright, I'll help you," he said in an irritated manner, as he set the bat down against the floor. "What do you want me to do?"

"Can you mop, and I'll wash the dishes?"

He grabbed the mop. He was always there to help me whenever I had to cover for Percy.

"Thanks," I said.

"You know your parents need to start paying me for all the work I've done in this bakery," he replied.

He really did help out a lot. I even taught him how to bake. He wasn't very good at it, but neither was Percy, so it was good enough to fool my mother.

I rolled my eyes. "I've done just as much work at your father's wood shop."

"Yeah, but building stuff is actually fun. This baking stuff is _so _boring!"

"Oh, please," I retorted jokingly. "I've mopped the floors in your shop plenty of times. And sanding wood—ugh—that's just the worst!" I made a face and Joey and I cracked up in unison. But despite the jokes I made, I knew what Joey said was true. I enjoyed crafting pieces out of wood, whether it was furniture or just toys, much more than I enjoyed baking. Baking was what I was raised to do. But woodworking is what I _wanted_ to do. It was where my heart lay. That's why I was always spending all my free time at Joey's shop, helping him out and trying to learn as much as I could.

In fifteen minutes we finished all our work, and unloaded the loaves of bread from the oven. We set them on the table, and headed out the door. My mother stopped us as soon as we entered the front of the store. She asked if I had finished my work. I told her that I had and the five loaves she had asked me to make were waiting in the back.

"What about Percy?" she asked, the perpetual scowl on her face.

"He finished before he left," I replied simply.

"Did he?" my mother asked, hoping to catch me in a lie.

She used to be so good at spotting it. After she'd catch me, she'd always hit me for lying to her. But that only taught me to get better at it.

"He did all his work," I said looking her dead in the eye. "You can check, the kitchen's spotless." My mother seemed satisfied with my reply and told me I could leave for the day.

Together, Joey and I raced out of the bakery, with the baseball bat still clutched tightly in his hand.


	63. Cursed

**A/N**

**I've updated Hannah's character a bit so now she's the butcher's daughter. Obviously, that means Katniss knows her.**

**Anyways, enjoy! :)**

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><p>When Joey and I reached the park we found our friends sitting by the benches. Usually they'd be playing soccer until the sun came down and it was time to go home. But the day before the reaping no one really wanted to play anymore. As the reaping day drew closer, everyone lost their enthusiasm to play and grew fearful for what the next day might bring.<p>

Blake and Ryan were sitting on the benches sulking with some of our other friends when we approached. They were talking gloomily about the reaping, and they were all pretty much terrified since it would be their first one that year just like me and Joey. Jesse was the oldest of the bunch so he complained that he'd have a greater chance of getting reaped since he had more tesserae in his name. I reminded him that it was only one more than the rest of us, so he shouldn't worry too much about it.

Joey switched the topic and told them we had learned a new game that we wanted to show them.

"Is it the game you were asking my father about?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, it's called baseball," I informed him.

"And look, we made the bat all on our own!" Joey added.

That garnered a few oohs and aahs from the boys who gathered together to get a closer look at our new sporting equipment.

Some boys asked what it was used for and Joey explained it to them.

"Can you show us how to play?" Ryan asked.

"I don't think I'm up for it," Blake said shaking his head. "I feel queasy all of a sudden."

Like some of the other first years, Blake was terrified of the reaping. It definitely put a downer on his mood and he became sick with fright, just as many other children usually did before the reaping day.

But Joey continued to urge them to play, until finally they all did. Joey didn't like talking about the reaping. It made him feel uncomfortable. It had been years since anyone brought up the Sherwood curse in front of him, because our friends learned quickly enough not to do that, but he still got nervous about it sometimes.

He always said he didn't believe in curses, or ghosts, or anything remotely superstitious for that matter. But I knew deep down inside, a part of him believed there might still be some truth to the curse, and he was a lot more scared than he let on. That's why he was so eager to try our new game before our very first reaping day.

About half an hour later, we had explained all the rules of the game and showed everyone how to play. Then we split into teams and started to play. Before long, the game was in full swing and the boys were starting to enjoy themselves and forgot all about their reaping day blues.

Soon more children noticed that we had started a new game and joined us.

Even Hannah asked if she could play. Out of all the girls I knew from town, Hannah was pretty much the only one who was interested in sports. The boys always teased her about it.

As soon as she approached us, they all started to protest saying she couldn't play because she was a girl.

"Who made up that stupid rule?" she retorted.

"I did," Jesse said.

"Well, then you're an idiot," she shot back simply with a shrug of her shoulders.

"No, I'm not," he countered back. "Girls can't play. That's just the rule."

"Why not?" she demanded

"Because girls are terrible at sports!" he replied. "It's a known fact."

"She can play, alright," I intervened. "We're one player short anyways."

"Yeah, it's our game," Joey added. "We can let anyone we want play."

"You're only saying that because she's your cousin!" Jesse replied tauntingly.

Hannah was Aunt Rooba's daughter so she was my cousin from my dad's side of the family. Jesse was from my mom's side. Needless to say, my cousins from either side of the family were always at odds with another.

Hannah scoffed at his comment. "You just don't want me to play because you're scared I'll be better than you."

"No, you won't!" he replied.

"I'll prove it."

We decided to set up a batting match between the two to see who could hit the farthest. Jesse went up to bat first and hit the ball pretty far. All the boys cheered and high fived him when he was done. He had a smug grin on his face when Hannah stepped up to the plate, but she wiped that look off his face just as soon as she struck the ball with a hard thwack. The ball flew across the park, surpassing his attempt by a long shot.

Jesse's eyes widened in surprise as he watched the ball soar over his head.

"I guess that means she can play," I said with a shrug.

Joey high fived Hannah and recruited her for his team. The game resumed, and nobody seemed to question Hannah's athletic abilities after that.

We finished up our game just as it grew dark and then all headed home as a group. Percy caught up with us along the way. He told Jesse all about his date with Nancy at the Slag Heap, and Jesse high fived him. Hannah said he was a slimeball.

Soon the group dwindled down to just me, Joey and my brother.

As soon, as everyone was gone, Joey asked Percy why he had skipped his shift that day.

"Because hooking up with Nancy Cartwright is a lot more fun than washing floors in the bakery," he responded with a laugh.

"Hooking up with Nancy is not going to help mom and dad pay the bills," I said, slightly annoyed by his laziness.

"You can help mom and dad pay the bills," he retorted harshly. "I'm not going to sit around and clean pots and pans all day. That's a job for Seamers to do!"

"At least _they_ can cook and clean," I retorted heatedly, my anger growing by the minute. "You can't do anything! You can't even bake!"

"I don't have to!" he replied snidely. "It's not like _my_ family's starving, right?"

"How can you talk about them like that? They're human, just like the rest of us," I yelled angrily. "You know some of them _die_ because they don't have enough food to eat?"

"Why do you care about them so much?" Percy asked. "Have you been making friends with them lately? Or maybe you've got a sweet spot for one of them seam girls?"

"No," I denied in a hurry.

"I'm friends with some of them," Joey interjected.

Percy stared at him with a judgmental look on his face. "Why?" he asked incredulously as if he couldn't fathom why in the world anyone would want to be friends with someone from the Seam.

"They sell wood at my father's shop," he said with a shrug. "I see them there all the time. And their family visits us. They seem pretty nice."

Then all of a sudden, Percy grabbed the bat from Joey's grasp, having noticed it for the first time.

"What's this you got here?" he asked, examining its sleek wooden surface.

"Give it back!" Joey said trying to retrieve his bat.

"Oh, I've seen this before!" Percy exclaimed as he held the bat high over Joey's head, keeping it away from him. "I saw it in the Games," he explained. "I remember one tribute used it to club someone to death!"

I saw as a toothy grin spread across his face.

"He lifted it up like this," my brother said as he lifted the bat up. "And struck it down like that!"

"Ow," I cried out in pain, as the heavy wooden bat struck my shoulder.

"Hey," Joey shouted furiously. "That's not what that's used for!"

Both Joey and I tried yanking the bat out of Percy's hands, but he was much stronger than both of us. He was taller too, and he used that to his advantage holding the bat way above our heads where we couldn't reach it.

Then suddenly, he started swinging the bat at us.

"You might as well get a little practice," he cackled with a menacing laugh. "Before you get reaped tomorrow!"

"We're not getting reaped!" I shouted.

"Oh yeah? Did you forget about the Sherwood curse?"

"Shut up!" Joey said lunging at him.

He started throwing punches at him, but Percy fought back.

"You looking to get beat again, huh?" he taunted. "That beating at the competition wasn't enough for you, was it?"

I grabbed Joey by his shoulders and tried pulling him off. I didn't want to see him get hurt.

"Better save all that energy for the arena," Percy said with a smirk, as he lifted himself off the pavement. "You're going to need it."

His comment only aggravated Joey even more and I had use all my strength to hold him back and keep him from charging again.

"I'm not going to get reaped!" Joey snapped defiantly.

"Hey, it's a curse," Percy responded half-heartedly. "There's nothing you can do about it. Everyone knows it's going to happen!"

"There's no such thing as curses!" Joey spat back violently. I could feel his body quake in my grasp, as I held on and desperately tried to steady him.

"Might as well start getting ready for it now," Percy warned provokingly, with a tantalizing grin on his face.

"Hey, come on," I said pulling Joey away from him. "I'll walk you home."

I tried calming him down, but Joey kept muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

"Don't listen to him," I said trying to console him. "You're not going to get reaped tomorrow. He's just an idiot!"

By the time we got to his house, I somehow managed to calm him down.

"Meet us at nine, yeah?" I said just as soon as we bid our goodbyes.

Joey nodded tersely and gave me a halfhearted smile before he walked into his house.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Only two more flashback chapters, and then we'll go to the present!**

**I had a couple more chapters I wanted to do, but I decided I'm going to switch back and forth between past and present now. Hopefully, you guys will be able to appreciate that layout more! ;)**


	64. The Ritual

When I got home my mother scolded me for being late. We hadn't even started dinner yet, but I knew how important family dinners were the night before the reaping, so I stayed quiet. I didn't want to get on my mother's bad side.

I helped prepare for dinner and then we sat down for a meal. We talked about a plethora of topics, all trying to avoid the impending doom that tomorrow might bring, until finally my mother brought up the reaping.

"The one I'm worried about the _most_ is Peeta," she said emphatically.

"There's no need to worry about him," my father replied. "He's only got one slip with his name. He'll be fine tomorrow."

"One slip is one slip nonetheless," my mother asserted. "If he'll get reaped tomorrow, he'll have a smaller chance of getting out than his brothers."

"You can't predict what will happen in a game," my father countered back reassuringly. "Sometimes it's the smaller ones that truly surprise you."

"Surprises are alright, Phillip. But tell me, how will he fend for himself if he has to face another tribute in the arena?" my mother stated. "Patrick and Percy have each won a championship. They've proven themselves. If they get thrown into the arena, they might still have a chance. But Peeta hasn't even placed in the finals. Frankly, I don't know why I wasted all that money on his wrestling classes."

"I've been practicing," I assured her. "I've been getting better."

"And yet you have nothing to show for it," she replied flatly. "Maybe if you spent more of your free time practicing, you would have earned a spot in the finals, just like your brothers did in their first year."

I bowed my head shamefully. _Maybe I shouldn't have let Joey win that round.__ Then maybe my mother would be proud of me._

"Helen, these things take time to develop," my father spoke up in my defense. "And Peeta already spends most of his free time practicing, isn't that right, son?"

I looked up and nodded my head briskly.

"When I'm not at work or at soccer practice, I'm always in the gym practicing."

Okay so maybe that wasn't entirely true. Ever since the competition ended, and summer began, I had been spending more of my time playing soccer with my friends. But I didn't want my mother to be disappointed in me.

"You know what it is that's stopping him?" my mother said. "It's that soccer team. He needs to drop out and spend more of his time learning how to fight."

"Honey, he can't drop out of the soccer team," my father insisted. "The boy loves it."

"And he's their star player," Pat added. "If he dropped out, I don't know what they would do without him."

I smiled at him to show I my appreciation.

"Soccer is for the poor," my mother retorted coldly. "I don't need my son running around on that field with all those dirty seam children."

The soccer teams were split up according to class. I played for the merchant team.

"They have bad habits," my mother continued. "And no morals."

"That's not true for all of them," my father countered back defensively.

"Oh, they all engage in illegal activity one way or another," my mother shot back dismissively. "If you don't call that immoral, then I don't know what is."

"Making kids work for eight hours a day without pay sounds pretty immoral to me," Percy retorted brazenly.

I knew that would've earned him a slap across the head, if my father hadn't been there.

"It's not immoral. It's your duty," my mother corrected in an aggravated tone. "And don't you forget that. Just because you won the competition this year doesn't mean you don't owe your family everything—including your obedience."

Percy rolled his eyes in annoyance, turning his focus back on his food. He'd heard the same speech dozens of times before.

"He understands his duty," my father asserted gently. "His talents simply lie in other areas—"

"You hear that mom?" Percy interjected mockingly. "I'm talented."

My mother just glared at him.

"If he doesn't want to clean—that's fine," my father continued ignoring Percy's comment. "We'll find another job for him. From now on, Percy, you'll be in charge of the front and deliveries. How does that sound?"

"Pretty good," Percy replied, chewing off a piece of stale bread. "Thanks dad."

My mother went on to tell my father that he was being too nice to Percy and was going to spoil him. They went on arguing about that for another half hour.

After dinner was over our parents told us to go to bed early. But as soon as they fell asleep, my brothers and I snuck out of the house.

We trekked through the night until we reached the park, which was completely empty by that hour. When we got to the large oak tree, Joey was already there, waiting for us.

"What's he doing here?" Percy shouted in disgust.

"I invited him," I said.

"You're not allowed to invite anyone, pinbrain!"

"I didn't want to do it alone," I explained quickly.

"Oh, what—you're scared?" he retorted in a mocking tone.

"No!" I asserted. But to be honest, I kind of was. That's why I invited my best friend to be here with me.

"Hey, get out of here!" my brother shouted at Joey as soon as we got near. "You're not invited!"

"Yeah, I am," Joey shot back defensively. "Peeta invited me himself."

"Doesn't matter what that idiot told you. We don't share the same blood, so you don't belong here."

"Um, yeah, we do. I'm your first cousin," Joey replied.

"Oh, I've got a lot of those," Percy answered coolly. "You don't see them all here do you?"

"I let him come," Patrick said with finality as he unloaded his knapsack.

Joey grinned smugly at Percy.

"He's not our brother," Percy protested. "He can't be here!"

"He picks up more work at the bakery than you do, so he might as well be," Patrick declared calmly. "He can stay."

Percy grumbled noisily but didn't argue any further. Joey flipped him off when Patrick wasn't looking. Something told me he was still angry at Percy for bringing up the curse earlier.

Patrick searched through his knapsack until he found a small box, which he took out and presented to us.

He opened the box and inside lay two separate necklaces, each with a three-sided metallic pendant attached to a brown leather cord.

"I got Jeff to make me these," Pat explained.

Jeff was our cousin who worked at the metal shop. Every now and then, we could get him to do favors for us. He's the one who initially introduced the ritual to my brothers.

"Percy and I already have ours," Patrick told us lifting his necklace from underneath his shirt. "You'll get yours after you take your oaths."

Percy also took off his necklace and they each placed their necklaces next to ours in the box.

Then Pat closed the box and looked at us with a serious expression on his face.

"Tomorrow is your first reaping," he began in a somber tone. "After tomorrow, everything can change. Now, I don't want you to be scared—"

"I'm definitely not," Percy interjected assuredly.

"But I don't want you to take it as a joke either," Pat said narrowing his eyes on Percy. "Tomorrow, any one of us can get reaped. If we do, we have to man up and fight. We have to do whatever we can, to survive. And whatever happens, we _cannot_ give up. It doesn't matter how bad it might seem, or how terrible your odds may be—you cannot end your life. Not without a fight."

He paused for a moment so we could all have a chance to take in his words.

"Keep your heads up high and remember, we will fight with glory and with honor. And we will do our best to make our families proud. Do you both understand this?"

Joey and I both nodded to express our understanding.

"Do you swear to this?"

"Yes," we both said.

"Alright, now you have to make your oaths."

"I'll go first," Percy volunteered.

After he said his vows, he pulled out a switchblade.

"Where'd you get that?" Joey asked.

"I won it in a card game," Percy explained. "At the pub."

"You play for knives?"

"Peacekeepers do. When they're drunk, I can get almost anything off them."

He took the blade and pressed it against his palm, until drops of blood seeped out from his hand and fell into the vial that Patrick held in his hand.

When he was done, Patrick pushed the vial of blood into Percy's hand, and did the same. He took his oath and spilled some of his blood into the vial.

I offered to go next. When I had completed my oath, Patrick asked me to hold out my hand. He gave my index finger a prick with the tip of the blade and then guided my finger towards the vial, letting my blood trickle into it.

Then it was Joey's turn. When he finished his oath, he approached Percy who was holding the vial, but Percy quickly backed away.

"I'm not mixing my blood with yours!" he cried jokingly, shrouding the vial with his hand. "I might get cursed."

"Oh, shut up!" Patrick exclaimed. He grabbed the vial and completed the ritual himself.

When we had all spilled our blood into the vial, Patrick put the stopper on it. He shook the blood, mixing it together. Then he opened the black box again. I took a closer look at the pendants and noticed they each had three shapes held together by a small red bulb. Patrick turned the pendants over and opened each bulb. Then he poured a drop of blood in each.

After he was done, he closed all the pendants and spilled the rest of the blood on the ground next to the tree.

"Just as this blood will strengthen the roots of this tree," he began. "So will it strengthen you in your time of need."

We watched as the blood trickled down to the ground, drop by drop, until the vial was empty.

"These will be your tokens," Patrick stated, lifting the first necklace out of the box and placing it around Percy's neck. "They will give you the strength and courage to keep going, when all the odds may seem stacked against you."

He placed another around my neck. "When you feel like giving up all hope, this token will remind you that your brothers are with you, always and forever."

He lifted the third necklace and placed around Joey's neck. "In your darkest hour, it will remind you of home. It will remind you that you must do whatever it takes to get back here. Because there are people waiting for you. People that love you."

He took a moment to smile at Joey, and Joey beamed back at him. It meant so much to him to be a part of our circle. He always wanted to have brothers.

"And no matter what," Patrick said placing the last necklace around his own neck. "You must never give up hope."

"Are we done yet?" Percy asked.

"Yes," Pat answered. "Now, we are officially blood brothers."

Joey and I high-fived each other.

"And together, we're invincible."

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><p><strong>AN**

**This all happens before Peeta and Joey's first reaping. Joey doesn't get reaped until the 3rd, and a lot happens in between that time. Just a heads up for those of you who might have gotten that mixed up.**


	65. The First Reaping

**A/N**

**Ok, so I know promised there'd only be one more flashback chapter, but I just had to do this one. It was really necessary, especially considering a lot of the confusion readers have been having regarding whether or not Joey gets reaped in his first reaping. So this is really how the first reaping went down.**

**As for the present, I'll go back to that in the next chapter, and I promise it'll be posted up by either today or tomorrow! :)**

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><p>The next morning, I woke up with a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.<p>

_My best friend is going to get reaped today._

That was the first thought that ran through my mind as soon as I got out of bed. It had been a reoccurring thought for the past couple of weeks. Maybe it was all my brother's teasing or maybe it was the curse itself, but my biggest concern at that moment was that my best friend might be taken away from me.

I knew that it might be just as likely that I would get reaped myself. Or maybe someone else that I loved. Someone in my family, or one of my friends. But I had grown slightly accustomed to seeing people I knew and loved getting reaped. But my best friend—no, that would be too much. That would be too cruel.

I opened my closet and glanced through my clothes. I spotted a pair of formal black pants that I had never worn before. I remembered both of my brothers wore that to their first reaping. They never got reaped. Maybe the pants would bring me the same luck today. I pulled the pants out from my wardrobe and put it on along with the clean, white button down shirt my mother had washed and placed on my bed the night before. When I came downstairs I noticed my whole family was there already. Patrick was in the kitchen helping mom and dad prepare breakfast. Percy was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair.

My mother called my brother and me to help out in the kitchen. We ate breakfast in silence, since nobody was in the mood to talk much. Only Percy made some offhand comments about the food. Then my mother noticed that I wasn't eating my food, just pushing it around on my plate.

"Peeta, why aren't you eating?"

"I'm too nervous," I answered.

"Eat up," she ordered. "You'll need your strength for today."

When we finished my father reminded us how much he and my mom loved us. My mother stopped me and fixed my hair before we left, saying that I needed to at least look presentable if I would have to step up on stage.

"That's all you have to offer," she remarked. "You certainly don't have the strength of your brothers."

When we got to the square we were told to stand according to our age and gender, so I got placed in the same line as Joey and some of my other friends and cousins. I hoped that none of them would get reaped.

_Especially not Joey. Please not Joey._

I kept repeating it in my head, as I flipped the token around my neck nervously, hoping it would bring me luck.

The night before Percy started teasing me about getting reaped again. Patrick told him to knock it off. But then I asked Patrick what would happen if Percy was right and I really did get reaped. Patrick told me not to worry about it. He told me that my token would bring me luck.

So I stood there turning the token over, once, twice, and again, all with the hope that Joey wouldn't get reaped.

I glanced over at my friend and noticed he'd been watching me too. His hands were in his pockets, making him appear calm and collected. But I knew he only did that when he was nervous. It was a habit we both had. We'd known each other for so long I'd already forgotten who'd started it first.

I glanced back at my brothers, who stood a few rows behind me. Percy was playing nervously with his switchblade. I wasn't even sure how he had managed to sneak it in here. I guess being friends with most of the Peacekeepers in town has its perks.

Then I looked back even further and caught a glimpse of my older brother. He smiled at me reassuringly, and I smiled back. Then he motioned for me to turn back because the procession was beginning and the Mayor was starting his speech.

But the speech didn't interest me. I had heard it so many times before.

I turned to my right and gazed at the section of girls standing across from me. So many of them were my cousins. Others were my friends. I didn't want any of them to get reaped.

I continued scouting through the crowd until I found Katniss. Her hands were folded together neatly as she awaited to hear the verdict that could very well determine the rest of our lives. I wondered if she was as scared as I was. I wondered if she had anyone to wish for, the way I wished for Joey's life to be spared. I also wished for my brothers' safety. But Katniss' sister was too young to be reaped, and in the past couple of months since her father died, Katniss had estranged herself from pretty much all of the friends she had in class. I wasn't even sure if she spoke to her cousins anymore. So much had changed since her father had died.

She seemed to have matured so much since then, too. The look on her face grew more serious ever since she started hunting. She stopped wearing dresses and skirts, and instead came in to school wearing pants and a large leather jacket that was much too big for her. I think she went hunting after school.

But now she had managed to fit herself into a classy white blouse with ruffles on the front and a crisp blue skirt for the occasion. She looked so pretty.

I hoped she wouldn't get reaped. She didn't deserve it after all that she had been through in the past year.

_And I haven't even gotten a chance to talk to her yet._

Well, not really. I had one chance and I totally blew it.

_She probably thinks I'm a blubbering idiot._

I hadn't even tried to talk to Katniss again since the incident in the park. I didn't want to make a fool of myself again. I was so afraid she wouldn't like me.

_And now I may never get a chance to talk to her again._

Suddenly all my fears of talking to her seemed to disappear as we were now thrust into a potentially life or death situation. Everything seemed so small and insignificant in comparison.

_I should have talked to her. I should have apologized to her or something._

I began twirling my pendant with the ends of my fingers again. I wished with all my heart it wouldn't be Katniss that would get reaped.

Then suddenly I heard Effie's chirpy voice announce that they would be picking out the girl tribute for this year's Hunger Games. I saw she had already brought out the two reaping balls onto the stage. She dropped her hideously long nails into the girl's reaping ball and picked out a slip. My heart stopped as I heard her call out the name.

I gave a quick sigh of relief when I heard the name, because it was one that I didn't recognize at all. So it wasn't Katniss. And it wasn't any of my friends or cousins either.

It was an older girl from the Seam. I'd seen her around and at the bakery sometimes, but we were from different grades so I didn't know her by name.

Then Effie went on to select another name, this time from the boy's reaping ball. That's when I truly got nervous. It could be Joey.

"_You know he's got a greater chance of getting reaped than any one of us."_

I heard my brother's voice in my head.

Or maybe, it'd be Percy. I wasn't always there to cover for him when he would get into trouble. Maybe he did something really terrible and my mom had already taken out more tesserae in his name.

But even if she did, Patrick still had the most tesserae out of all of us. He was six years older than me, so his chance of getting reaped was six times greater than mine.

Or maybe it would be me.

I gulped down fearfully.

Gideon got reaped in his first year. Maybe I would too.

If I did, I would only hope for a death that was as peaceful as his.

"_Better hope it won't be as messy as this squirrel."_

I shook my head trying to rid myself of my brother's taunting voice, and held my breath in as Effie announced the name of the boy tribute.

"Jesse Drusman," her sugary voice rang out gratingly against the overwhelming silence that filled the crowd.

It took me a moment to realize that I knew that name. It was my cousin. Jesse.

I turned around to look at him, standing in the row immediately behind me. A look of sheer surprise adorned his pale, horror-stricken face. I felt so sorry for him. He was only a year older than me.

His whole body shook as he took a few small steps toward the end of the line and exited into the aisle separating the boys from the girls. He walked fearfully down the path leading up the stage. A set of Peacekeepers were waiting for him at the end of the aisle. When he saw them he began moving more briskly, afraid of the guns they held on their sides.

When he walked onto the stage he was asked to shake hands with his fellow tribute, and he did so obediently.

A few more words were said, that I didn't hear. Everything went by like a blur.

Another one of my cousins was getting reaped.

And maybe Jesse wasn't as close to me as some of my other cousins, but he was still my friend. We fought together on the wrestling team, and played alongside each other on the soccer team. We had played baseball just the other day.

But secretly, I felt relieved that it hadn't been me.

Or Joey. Or any of my brothers for that matter.

Maybe our tokens really were lucky after all.

When the procession was over, everyone split up and went to search for their family members. I ran down the line to where Joey stood and we embraced each other.

We had survived.

We had made it through our very first reaping together.

After we broke from our hug, we found my brothers and we all agreed to go visit Jesse.

When we went inside the Justice Building, we were escorted into the visiting room. In there we saw a whole slew of family members and friends standing outside Jesse's room, crying and waiting for their turn to see him. We saw his younger siblings were crying, while some of his cousins were trying to calm them down.

Jesse's mother was crying hysterically, insisting that they should give her another moment to see her son. Her husband held her in his arms and consoled her, telling her they had already spent most of the visiting hour with their son, and they had to allow his other family members and friends see him before he would be taken away. But that only sent her bawling even more.

Joey, my brothers, and I walked over to where a large group of Eddie's friends and cousins stood, discussing his fate with grim looks on their faces. Even Hannah was there to pay her respects. It was clear that most of them had already seen Jesse, and now Logan was in there with him.

We let Percy go in after him, since he knew Jesse the best out of all of us. They had been close friends for years.

When he came out there wasn't much time left so Joey and I decided to go in together.

As soon as we walked in, I noticed Jesse's eyes were red and swollen from crying. He tried to play it off and pretend that he hadn't been, trying to put on a strong demeanor in front of us since we were his younger cousins, but I could tell deep down he was really scared. After all, no one from twelve got reaped and ever came back. Not since Haymitch.

Joey and I exchanged hugs with him and a few words of comfort before a Peacekeeper came to escort us out.

When we stepped outside, I saw Percy waiting by the door. I knew the rest of my family was probably with Jesse's family trying to console them. But Percy was leaning against the wall, playing with his switchblade, as if he had better things to do.

"You're going to be next," he said as soon as we came near.

"No, I'm not," Joey retorted, immediately realizing the comment was directed at him and not me. "I told you I wasn't going to get reaped, and I didn't."

"The Sherwood curse doesn't skip a generation," Percy countered back calmly. "If it didn't happen now, then it'll happen next year. Or the year after that."

"Just because it happened in the past, doesn't mean it'll happen again," Joey said.

"Someone from the Sherwood family gets reaped every generation," Percy answered setting his gaze on Joey. "Now it's your turn."

Suddenly I grew angry.

_Just because his friend got reaped doesn't mean he has the right to tease mine._

"It's just a coincidence!" I yelled, anger slowly boiling inside of me.

"It's _not_ a coincidence," Percy insisted coolly. "I've been watching the old games and it happens every time."

"Why in Panem would you be watching the old games?" Joey asked incredulously.

"Because its fun," Percy answered with a smirk.

"You're a sick bastard!" Joey shot back with disgust.

"Maybe," Percy chortled. "But at least I know what's coming."

"You don't know anything," Joey retorted.

"I know enough," Percy replied. "I know that you're the only one in your family who's old enough to get reaped. Your sister's just a baby. Unless they wait for her to turn twelve. And then they'll just reap her instead of you!"

I saw Joey's eyes widen with fear as a look of terror seized his face. I turned to my brother and glowered at him.

"You're only trying to scare us," I declared furiously. "And we don't believe you."

I grabbed hold of my friend's arm and pulled him away. "Come on. Let's go," I said.

I knew my brother was just trying to bully us and I didn't believe a word that he said. But something about the contemplative look on my friend's face told me that maybe he did.


	66. PART III: Joseph's Game

**Katniss' POV**

It had been a full day since I saw the tape of District 12's 72nd Reaping Day. Since then I did everything I could to distract myself from all the horrors I remembered watching during the Game that aired two years ago. I busied myself at my mother's house in the Seam, cooking and cleaning, and doing anything I could to push the terrible thoughts from my head.

I even helped Prim do her homework—it was math so it was something I was halfway decent at. Then I helped her make cheese from Lady's milk and taught her how to sew up one of her old dresses. But after a couple hours, I couldn't help but remember the tributes' faces—and then all the horrible memories came rushing back to me.

Every year I tried telling myself it was just a game. That I didn't know any of the children who were reaped, so it wouldn't hurt me when they died. But some of their deaths still stayed with me. Long after the games were over, they continued to haunt me in my nightmares, in my daydreams until I pushed them away. Nadine's death was one of those that had stayed with me for the past two years.

I could still remember the helpless look in her big grey eyes as her life was choked out of her frail, innocent body. Her death wasn't very gruesome by the Games' standards, considering the thousands of brutal deaths other tributes had to suffer. But what made her death stand out from all the rest was the perpetrator—it was her district partner who had murdered her.

District partners rarely ever turned on each other, especially not here in twelve. Most of our tributes never even made it past the Cornucopia. They were usually killed off within the first couple of minutes of the initial bloodbath, either by a Career or another tribute who had more physical prowess, or was more prepared for the games.

If District Twelve's tributes did survive the initial bloodbath, and by whatever slim chance both of them made it out alive, then they would either team up as allies, or split up for good. They would never fight one of their own. They would stay away from each other out of respect and honor for their home district. To murder someone from your own district was an unspeakable act here in twelve. And yet _he_ was guilty of it.

I didn't know the other tribute. But his cruel face had been etched into the darkest recesses of my mind, ever since I saw him ruthlessly strangle his district partner in cold-blooded murder.

It was the reason people in the Seam started whispering that Townies shouldn't be trusted. It was one of the reasons I found it so hard to trust Peeta. Of course, I wouldn't trust my district partner even if he had been from the Seam, but being from the Merchant side of town that only made it worse. Ever since the 72nd game, people had been whispering that there was something the merchant class was hiding from us. Something that would grant them a competitive edge in the Games.

Whatever it was, they didn't want _us_ to find out about it.

Which is why I doubted Peeta so much. I regarded every word that came out of his mouth to be a lie. I knew there was something he was hiding from me. Something the merchants weren't telling us in the Seam.

But Peeta proved he could be trusted. It took me a while to figure out. In fact, it wasn't until the very last minute of the Game that I realized Peeta would never turn on me. If Merchants weren't to be trusted, then he wasn't like the rest. I understood in the moment that he took those berries to his lips, that he would never take my life, not even to ensure the survival of his own.

He was nothing like the cruel, heartless boy who had taken Nadine's life. But then why did Peeta have this strong connection to him? Why did he carry the same token around his neck?

_And why did it mean justice?_

I decided to try watching the rest of the tape, hoping it would give me some answers. Maybe there was something I had missed.

I turned on the television set. The program started right where it left off. I guess Peeta had been too frazzled to take the tape out. I still remembered how heartbroken he looked when he learned that I had been watching the tape.

I hoped he wouldn't be too upset when he found out that I had watched the game. I fast-forwarded through the tribute parade. This was two years before Cinna and his team was hired to dress our district, so our tributes were dressed in all black attire, with lumps of coal protruding from all over their bodysuits. Their costumes were pretty terrible and didn't do much to raise their appeal, but at least they weren't naked and tastelessly painted black like the two Seam tributes from the year before.

I continued fast-forwarding through the rest of the chariot scene, and past the ratings that were given to each tribute. The Careers, as usual scored tens, the others scoring around eight or nine if they were big enough, and the smaller ones scoring at the end of the spectrum. Nadine got a five, which wasn't too surprising. That was pretty common for district twelve. But her tribute partner got a _nine_.

I was so surprised that I had to rewind the tape and watch it again, to make sure my eyes had seen the right score. Yes, it was a nine.

How did he manage to get a nine? He was only fourteen. Hardly anyone from our district ever got a score that high. Even Peeta had managed only an eight. Maybe Joseph did something to tick off the judges, the way I did.

_Or maybe there really was something going on in the Merchant side of town that they weren't telling us about._

After the scores had been given out, they went on to the interviews. Caesar was clad in a red and blue striped suit, with matching red hair, styled in its typically outrageous fashion. He interviewed the Careers first, and they wore sparkly outfits and spoke confidently as usual. I sped through all the interviews until finally it was time for District Twelve's tributes to speak.

I watched a small portion of Nadine's interview, and smiled when I saw her eyes light up as she mentioned her older brothers and how they had taught her to take care of herself and survive on her own. Caesar told the audience that she was a contender they shouldn't count out. Together, they almost made it seem as if she had a chance at surviving the Games. I felt my eyes sting, as I thought about the horrifying death that would await the poor girl. I couldn't bear to watch anymore, so I fast-forwarded through the rest until it was time for the boy tribute to step on the stage.

"And last but not least, the male tribute from District Twelve, Joseph Silas Sherwood!" Caesar announced in his booming voice.

The boy tribute stepped on the stage donning a dark blue suit that brought out the blue in his eyes. His sandy blonde hair was brushed to the side, and when he smiled he looked dashing, like a young boy who had pulled his first suit on.

"Tell me, Joseph," Caesar started when the boy had been seated. "What have you enjoyed most about the Capitol so far?"

"The food's really good," Joseph answered with a smile.

"Well, the boy's got his priorities in order doesn't he?" Caesar laughed boisterously, regarding the crowd. "The food in the Capitol is top notch, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess," the boy replied. "It's not as good as my mom's cooking, but it comes pretty close."

Caesar laughed along with the rest of the crowd. "She's got us beat, does she?"

"Yeah, no one can cook like her," Joseph replied with a melancholy smile on his face.

"You must be aching to go back home," Caesar remarked sympathetically.

"I am," Joseph said. "And I'll do whatever it takes it takes to get there."

"Said like a true fighter," Caesar lauded. "And the judges saw that in you as well."

"You got a nine in training," Caesar pronounced with astonishment. "A _nine_."

The outrageously clad interviewer paused for a moment to let the crowd's suspense to build up, before continuing.

"That's pretty uncommon for someone from your district. What do you have to say about that?"

"I'm not like other tributes from my district," Joseph said. "I'm doing this to win. I have a lot of people rooting for me back home, and I'm not going to disappoint them."

"You'll make them proud," Caesar assured. "And when you do the Capitol will be rooting for you as well."

"Good luck, Joseph," Caesar said shaking the boy's hand.

I was surprised at how much he reminded me of Peeta. He came off as very amiable, and got along well with Caesar. But he had a sense of determination that I had never seen in a tribute from our district before. And he spoke like a Career. It made me feel uneasy. Especially as I thought of everything he would go on to do in the Games.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Caesar yelled. "Give it up for the male tribute from District Twelve, the dashing and determined Joseph Silas Sherwood!"

The crowd cheered as the boy walked off the stage, and then Caesar reminded them to tune back in next week to see the Games they've all been waiting for.

When the interview portion was over, Claudius Templesmith announced the start of the 72nd Hunger Games. Immediately, a menu window popped up on the screen. I had the option to watch the Game in its entirety or select to follow a single district's tributes. I hit the button that said _District 12_. A menu popped up with a picture of each tribute from district 12. I clicked on _Male Tribute_. And then I hit _Play_.


	67. Cornucopia

The camera panned over the entire arena, showing a vast desert covered with heavy boulders. There were desert shrubs, low-water trees, and cacti a few yards away from the Cornucopia, but immediately surrounding it there was just sand, littered with tiny jagged rocks.

The twenty-four tributes stood in a circle waiting for the game to begin. Some were more anxious than the rest, with fierce looks of determination in their eyes. Others seemed to be sick with worry, as their entire bodies shook with fright. I heard Claudius Templesmith's voice countdown from the speakers overhead.

_Nine _

_Eight_

I saw Joseph's eyes narrow, as he set his gaze in front of him, and adjusted his position so that he was ready to bolt when the time would come.

_Five_

_Four_

Nadine did the same, but appeared to be more nervous. Her eyes were wide with fright as they scanned quickly across the field, left and right, as if searching for place to hide.

_Three_

_Two_

_One_

Once the cannon sounded, the game began and everyone ran from their spots in a frenzy. Most of the Career tributes headed straight towards the cornucopia, ready to snag all of the best weapons for themselves. Others attempted to grab whatever items were closest to them and then run for their lives, before a stronger opponent approached them.

Some of the smarter tributes didn't even try to reach the cornucopia. Instead they ran in the opposite direction, searching for a hiding place that would protect them from the bloodbath that would surely follow.

Nadine did the latter. I saw her sprint across the desert, towards the outlying region that was filled with short trees and great big boulders that she could easily hide behind.

Joseph, on the other hand, went straight for the cornucopia. Chaos ensued all around him, but he kept his gaze steady and ran as fast as he could towards his destination. Already, tributes had begun attacking one another with their bare hands, or whatever weapons they could find.

As Joseph approached the cornucopia, the male tribute from ten eyed him hungrily as he picked up a giant boulder and set off after him. When he got close enough, he hurled the heavy rock straight at Joseph's back, hitting him so hard that he fell from the impact, and cried out in pain.

The boy from ten was massive. Joseph was lean and muscled for his age, but it was obvious the other boy outweighed him supremely. After all, district ten supplied livestock, so they had a lot more meat to eat than merchants from district twelve.

The heavy boy lifted another rock and hurled it at Joseph, but he quickly rolled out of the away, dodging the blow by only a few inches. Then before the tribute from ten had the chance to throw another rock at him, Joseph grabbed the heavy rock that lay next to him and smashed it against his opponent's knees. The tribute dropped the rock that he held in his hands and fell to the ground, crying from the intense agony of the blow.

Joseph tried to take this moment to scramble to his feet and escape, but the larger boy lunged at him. He grappled at his throat, and clamped his fingers tightly around his neck. Joseph desperately tried to fight him off, but the boy was much too big. Just his sheer size was enough to suffocate him.

The boy from ten completely shrouded Joseph underneath him, so that all I could see of Joseph was his flailing arms which were now searching for a weapon on the ground.

Finally, his hands clasped around a medium sized rock that the other boy had dropped on the ground earlier. He lifted up the rock and smashed against the larger boy's head. He continued to thrash the rock against his skull, over and over again, until finally, the boy's grasp loosened from around his throat. His fleshy fingers fell limply against Joseph's skin, as he struggled to get out from underneath the boy's large, bulky frame.

When he pulled himself out, he noticed the large, bloody gash on his opponent's head. That's when he realized he had made his first kill.

His eyes widened in surprise and sheer terror as he'd realized what he'd done. But he didn't have time to appreciate the gravity of his actions, as the bloodbath continued raging on all around him.

He hastily got up and raced the rest of the way towards the cornucopia, until he got to a portion right inside the mouth that was nearly empty. Everybody else was too busy fighting to notice him. He sifted through some of the supplies, but threw most of what he found to the side, as if he were searching for something specific. He found a backpack and immediately swung it over his shoulder, without even checking to see its contents.

Then he continued browsing through the pile of supplies and weapons, until he came across a long gleaming sword. A smile spread onto his face as he lifted it out and examined its metallic bronze hilt. He tested its balance and seemed to be satisfied.

But as he stood there admiring the gleaming sword in his hands, a Career a few yards away noticed him.

"Hey Twelve," he barked, causing Joseph to turn around. "That's my sword you're holding there."

He had just finished putting his own blade through a tribute that lay on the ground, swimming in a pool of his own blood.

"You might want to give it back," the Career snarled threateningly as he tore out his own blood stained sword from his victim's belly. "Before I cut you open like Six here."

"You've already got one," Joseph countered back bravely. "This one's mine."

"This entire Cornucopia is _mine_," the dark haired boy growled. "That means everything inside of it, belongs to _me_. So why don't you hand over that sword, and I'll give you a quick and merciful death."

"I'm not handing it over," Joseph retorted. "If you want this sword you'll have to fight me for it."

"Then I guess it'll be a slow and _painful_ death for you," the Career seethed menacingly as he thrust his sword at his opponent.

But Joseph quickly blocked the blow with his own sword. The Career grew enraged and swiped at him again, only to have his blow obstructed once more.

"Where'd you learn how to fight, Twelve?" the Career snarled as his sword struck against Joseph's once more, emitting a loud clang as it did.

"That's not really any of your business," Joseph retorted as he shoved his opponent's sword away from him, and swiped at him with his own.

"Do they even have swords in your district?" the career sneered, as he expertly blocked the blow.

"Oh you'd be surprised," Joseph replied, before ducking to avoid the sharp edge of his assailant's sword as it came swinging towards him. The sword smacked the wall behind him instead, and sent all the supplies crashing down.

The Career seemed to be caught off guard by the loud noise the weapons made as they clattered down to the ground, so he didn't notice it when Joseph struck him in the abdomen.

He grunted in pain, heaved his sword upwards and struck it down against Joseph's shoulder. Joseph used his free arm to swipe at the Career's face, causing him to automatically step back to the avoid the blow.

Then, despite his injured shoulder, Joseph took the sword with both hands and struck a pile of water jugs that all came tumbling down. One of them landed on the Career's foot, causing him to howl in pain.

Joseph used this momentary distraction to run away, but the Career went after him, slashing his back with his sword. Joseph stumbled but kept running. He jumped over a crate, and crouched behind it to avoid another oncoming attack. Then he pushed the crate at the Career, causing him to fall over.

The Career grabbed a throwing knife that lay next to him and lurched it at the boy who was now halfway out of the Cornucopia. He missed, but the knife landed only a couple inches away from his target. Joseph came to a halt and picked up the knife.

"Thanks," he said with a smirk causing the Career curse angrily under his breath. With one last laugh, Joseph darted towards the exit.

"I'll get you twelve!" the Career called out after him. "And when I do, I swear I'll make you suffer!"

When Joseph reached the mouth of the Cornucopia, he noticed that the other tributes were still fighting all around him. He noticed one bulky tribute from eleven wrap his hands firmly around another tribute's neck as he pounded his head against a giant boulder. He saw two more tributes locked in a deadly knife fight, and many others heaving large rocks at each other. He ran past all of them, dodging all the dead bodies that lay across the sand, stained from the redness of human blood.

A female tribute came at him with an axe, but he must've heard her coming from behind because he automatically whipped around and blocked her with his sword. His blade cut through her arm, causing her to shout out in agony. She seemed to be stalled by her injury so Joseph continued to run away from the Cornucopia, his feet pounding hard against the desert sand.

He didn't stop running until he had found a mound of rocks to hide behind. There he found a dead tribute lying next to him with a knife stabbed straight through his heart. Joseph extracted the knife from the boy's bloody body, cleaned it with his shirt, and then placed it in his belt.

Then Joseph peeked his head out to check if the coast was clear. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide as he saw a knife zooming right at him. He hastily pulled back, and watched as the knife that was intended for him struck the giant rock in front of him with a loud thwack. He gulped down fearfully and crouched down lower against the rock. He stayed there for the rest of the day until the bloodshed was finally over.

The Careers retreated to the Cornucopia, deciding they would finish killing the rest of the tributes after sundown. The sun was already setting, so Joseph crouched down against the sand belly first, and crawled towards a larger set of rocks. Once he was safely hidden behind the large set of boulders, he started to run for his life, gaining more and more distance between himself and the Cornucopia.

He ran for hours, until he couldn't run anymore. Then he walked. As soon as he found a quiet, isolated spot far from the Cornucopia, he settled down by a giant boulder and began unpacking the contents of his knapsack.

In it he found, a first aid kit, a bundle of rope, a pack of rubber bands, and a canteen. He desperately popped the canteen open and brought it to his mouth. Then a disappointed expression crossed his face.

"No water," he grumbled to himself. He put the canteen back into his knapsack.

For the rest of the night, he busied himself with whatever he could in order to stay awake. He used the first aid kit to patch up his wounds. Then he tried scraping the blood off his shirt using some rocks.

He spent his first few nights dodging the Careers. Every time he heard a noise or saw another tribute he would pack up his things and move in the other direction.

During the daytime, he continued walking, probably looking for a source of water.

Haymitch must've told him to search for water, just as he told me. But every time the camera panned out to show an aerial view of the arena, I couldn't seem to find a body of water anywhere.

Eventually, Joseph found a small tree with dry leaves that he scarfed down ravenously. But the tree was so bare, that he had finished eating all the leaves within minutes. His stomach growled hungrily.

After a while, it was clear that the only water on this barren stretch of land was the set of water jugs Joseph had knocked down in the Cornucopia. And the only way to get them would be to go back.

But Joseph didn't seem to be in a rush to go back to the Cornucopia. In fact, he didn't seem capable of walking anywhere at all. After a few days, he had lost all his strength to move. Instead he lay perched against a giant boulder, his lips parched, and dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept or ate anything in days. There were no animals roaming the desert, due to its intense heat, and lack of water. All he had eaten in the past three days was just handfuls of desert leaves. He still hadn't found anything to drink, and by the fourth day, he looked almost as if he would die of thirst.

"Water," the boy mumbled weakly under his breath. "Just a little bit of water."

He checked his canteen once more to see if any water had magically appeared inside, as he had done constantly in the past few days. But of course, no water had materialized in his empty canteen.

He dropped the canteen hopelessly, and he looked off into the distance, as if calculating how much longer he must walk before coming across a river.

But having already seen the entire arena, I knew there were no rivers to find. I felt sorry for the boy, despite everything I knew he would go on to do.

"Just a bit of water, Haymitch," he muttered once more.

Then, all of a sudden, a parachute came flying down. In it, the dehydrated boy found a large jug of water, about a gallon in total.

"Thank you!" the boy cried out joyously as he put the jug of water to his lips.

He drank down the water greedily, until he had finished about a quarter of the jug. He saved the rest for later. After reading the note that was sent with the parachute, he let the parachute fly away.

The gift was an expensive one. He must have gotten sponsored by someone from the Capitol. I suppose the citizens of the capitol were impressed with his performance at the cornucopia. Killing one tribute and outsmarting another. I still wasn't entirely sure of how he seemed to be so well equipped with a sword.

After receiving his gift from his sponsors, Joseph seemed to be reignited with a new sense of vigor, and he continued on his journey with more determination.

Now that he had his water, I suppose he was in search of food, as he set out in the direction of a small plot of land filled with trees and cactuses.

Just as I suspected, when he got there he began cutting off some leaves from the trees, that were about eye level for him. When he came across a new type of tree whose leaves he hadn't tasted before, he'd snip off a small piece of a leaf and try it. If it didn't seem to be poisonous, he would scarf down some more. As he ate, he left his water jug open by his side. This time, he didn't drink as greedily as before, instead only taking small sips to wash down the dryness of the leaves he munched on.

Eventually a bird came and sat on the rim of the jug. The bird's beak was small enough to fit into the opening of the jug as it bent down to drink some water. Joseph noticed the bird, and as soon as he did, he eagerly snatched it up. A huge grin spread on his face as he took out one of the knives from his belt, and stabbed the wriggling creature in his hand.

His eyes grew wide with excitement as he glanced admiringly at the first real meal he would have in days. He ran off to go look for some grass and wood to start a fire, leaving his jug of water unattended. And as soon as he did, a boy appeared from behind a mound of rocks. He crept up to the water jug, and drank from it greedily. Then before Joseph could catch him, he stealthy creeped back to the rocks where he came from. By the time Joseph came back with enough grass and wood to start a fire, the boy was gone.

But he was so eager to eat the bird he had just killed, that he didn't even bother to look inside the jug.

The next couple of days went by like this. Whenever Joseph wasn't watching the boy from district three would sneak out from his hiding place and gulp down a mouthful of water from his jug.

I fast-forwarded through these parts, because they became repetitive after a while. I stopped on the third day, when I noticed Joseph cutting down a tree. The trees in this arena were small, with trunks that were very thin and easily pliable, so Joseph's sword was enough to cut them down.

I wasn't sure why he was cutting down trees. It's not like he's going to build himself a house in the middle of the desert. I sped through the video, until I finally was able to make out what he was fashioning out of the wood he had cut down.

He was building weapons.

He was fashioning the wooden trunk into a baton—the kinds they had in the Cornucopia, except wooden and not metal.

_No wonder he got a nine in training. He knew how to build his own weapons. _

Even Careers didn't know how to build their own weapons.

_And apparently, he knew how to sword fight too._

I noticed Joseph started keeping his jug of water close to him, moving it around wherever he went. When he was working, he would glance down warily at the jug of water by his side every so often, as if suspicious. I suppose he had realized someone had been stealing drinks from his water.

After he was done whittling down the wooden baton, he walked over to a narrow cactus and stared at it curiously. He lifted his sword and began sawing it down.

As he concentrated all his attention on his work, the sand began to move a few feet down from where he stood. All of a sudden the sand had eyes, and a mouth, as a face materialized from underneath the sand. Two hands surfaced, and then arms and legs rose up from beneath the desert soil. Out came an entire body, the thin, frail, body of the boy from District Three.

He carefully tiptoed over to where Joseph's water jug stood unattended, and took a stealthy sip from it.

Joseph's gaze was still set intently on the cactus he was trying to chop down, and the sword made a grating noise that made it too loud for him to hear what was going on, especially considering how quiet the boy was.

The boy from three continued taking generous swigs from the water jug, despite his proximity to the owner.

Then suddenly, Joseph lifted his gaze and spotted the water thief.

The boy still didn't notice him, but I could instantly see the fury in Joseph's eyes as soon as he had found his culprit.

"Hey! That _my_ water!" Joseph yelled incensed by the transgression occurring right before his eyes. "Put that jug down!" he screamed, as he abandoned his sword, and rushed down to catch the culprit.

The boy from three was caught off guard, and his eyes widened fearfully as he noticed Joseph was running towards him. Without thinking, he dropped the heavy jug of water from his hands and broke into a run.

"No, no!" Joseph screamed frantically as he watched the water spill out from the jug, and quickly seep into the ground below.

"No! What have you done!" Joseph cried hysterically, as he stooped down to check the jug. It was empty. He threw it down angrily. With fire burning in his eyes, he raced after the boy who had taken away his only source of water and nourishment.

The boy had already gained a head start and ran like the wind, propelled by his fear of the larger, stronger boy at his heel. But Joseph was determined to catch him, and his anger only drove him forward.

"I'm going to get you—you little thief!" Joseph screeched furiously, as he ran after the boy. He was a fast runner, much faster than the boy from district three, and within minutes, he had caught him.

"You took my water!" he snarled as he tackled the boy down.

"You've been taking it this whole time, haven't you?" he asked shaking the boy's tiny frame.

"I was just thirsty!" the boy whimpered.

"It was _my_ water!" he bellowed in a threatening voice. "And you took it from me! It was all I had—and now I have _nothing_!"

"Nothing!" he snarled again. A wild look crossed his eyes as he took out a blade from inside his belt and held it menacingly over the boy's chest.

"You took everything from me," he cried furiously. "And now I'm going to take everything from _you_!"

A wild, frantic look took over his face as he ruthlessly lowered his blade and stuck it through the boy's heart.


	68. Nadine

When Joseph came back to retrieve his sword, he saw that it was gone. The cactus where he left it still stood erect with a wide, open gash in it's surface where the sword had been, but the sword itself was nowhere to be found.

Joseph quickly ran over to where his knapsack was, to check if maybe he had left his sword there. But when he got to the mound of rocks where he had left his belongings, he found that his knapsack and wooden baton were gone too.

Joseph cried out in frustration as soon as he had realized what his moment's revenge had cost him. He wanted to make the boy pay for stealing his water; for taking away his most valuable resource. But in doing so he had lost two of his other most prized possessions, his knapsack and his sword, as well as the wooden weapon he had built for himself.

Now he had _truly_ lost everything.

All he had left were two small knives he kept in his belt. One of which he had used to slaughter the boy from three.

As soon as Joseph realized his mistake, he grew livid with anger. He pulled at his hair frantically, as if the pain would be enough to erase the paramount misfortune that he caused on himself. In the heat of his anger, he began picking up huge rocks and hurling them down against the ground.

Suddenly, he heard a loud clang, as a rock he had thrown came into contact with the soft desert ground. He rushed over to where the noise had come from.

He came across a giant set of rocks, behind which he found the rock he had just thrown, and beside it he found his knapsack lying inconspicuously on the dry, desert sand. He gazed down gleefully at his lost knapsack, and lifted it off the sand ecstatically.

As he swung the bag around his shoulders, something must've caught his eye, because suddenly he dropped down to his knees. There he saw a glint of metal, reflecting the sun's beams of light, that were shining down from up above. He bent down lower to get a closer look and saw a trace of silver gleaming from underneath the sand.

He eagerly brushed the sand off to reveal his gleaming silver sword, buried deep underneath the sand. He laughed joyously, grateful for being reunited with his lost possessions. He used his fingers to dig into the soil, perhaps looking for his wooden baton, the last of his missing items, but he couldn't find it.

Someone must have taken it. But Joseph didn't seem to be too bothered by that. Instead he seemed grateful just for being reunited with his sword and backpack again. He ran back to the cactus and attempted to cut it down again, by slamming the sword against its prickly spine.

But it must've been very hot in the arena that day, because after only a few minutes, he had sweat trickling down his brow and quickly grew tired of the work. He placed a hand around his temple and glanced up at the blazing sun that beat down mercilessly against his back.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was at its peak. He looked around, perhaps looking for some source of shade. But the trees around him weren't big enough to provide any shade. So he slipped the sword into a notch on his belt, strapped on his bag, and journeyed on, in search of a cooler place that would shelter him from the sweltering heat.

He didn't stop walking until he came across a cave. There he found a cool place to hide out. There were still a couple hours till sundown, when the Careers would come out to hunt, so Joseph closed his eyes and went to sleep. It was the first time he had slept in days.

When he woke up, it was already the beginning of a new day. He had slept through the night, but lucky for him none of the Careers had found him. He lifted up a rock to start a fire to light the cave, but as soon as he did, a lizard skittered out from underneath it. Without a second glance he took the rock in his hand and smashed the lizard down.

After he got the fire started, he stuck a small twig into the dead lizard and roasted it over the fire. When it was fried and ready to eat, he bit into it ravenously, savoring each bite as if it were the most succulent meal he had ever tasted.

The next few hours went by like this, as Joseph feasted on all the lizards he found inside the cave. Apparently, they had retreated to the cave in order to hide away from the blistering heat just as he had. Every time a lizard passed his way, he'd stab it down with his knife, opting for a cleaner kill than the last time.

Every so often, he'd hear a noise outside his cave, and when he did he'd hastily put out his fire, and retreat further into the cave. But there was one instance, when he didn't retreat into the cave fast enough.

He was sitting by the burnt out fire, skinning another one of his lizards, when he heard a noise coming from outside. He shot up hurriedly, dropped the lizard from his hands, and clenched on tighter to his knife.

He quietly slid over to the mouth of the cave. He saw a shadow move and immediately got on his guard, ready to strike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the perpetrator's dark hair and lithe movements. He caught a glimpse of the moving figure, and it was obvious from the clothes he saw that it was another tribute. But before he could make a move, the perpetrator glided out of view.

When he saw the shadow stir again, he automatically jumped out and pulled the trespasser into a headlock, with his knife pointed straight at the perpetrator's neck.

A blood-curling scream emanated from the victim's mouth as soon as she looked down at the jagged knife that was only inches away from taking her life.

"Nadine?" Joseph asked, finally getting a good look at his perpetrator's face.

She had her wild, curly hair pulled away from her face. Her big grey eyes were wide with fright, and her olive skin was sunkissed to a darker shade of golden brown, now that she had spent so many days underneath the scorching sun.

Having recognized his district partner, Joseph automatically released his grip from around her neck.

"You scared me half to death!" he exclaimed.

"I—?" Nadine panted incredulously, as she still recovered from her state of shock. "I scared _you_?"

"I thought you were a Career," Joseph maintained, letting out a deep breath.

"You almost killed me!" she shouted, as she rubbed her neck where his arm had gripped her.

"Yeah, well, that's what you get for creeping up on me like that," Joseph retorted. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I saw you come up here," she explained.

"So you decided to follow me?" he exclaimed incredulously.

"I thought we could be allies," she proposed timidly.

"I told you already," he retorted heatedly. "I don't want to be allies."

"I know how to get food," she offered.

"I already _have_ food," he asserted with a stern look on his face.

"I know where to find water," she stated hurriedly.

That seemed to draw his attention, as he instinctively licked his lips just at the thought of drinking water. It had been a full day since his last sip, and the desert heat was too much for him to decline her offer.

Yet I could easily read the suspicion on his face, as he studied her warily.

I remember watching this when I was fourteen. I felt disturbed by how distrustful he seemed of her. After all, she was his district partner, and she was so young and innocent. How could he not trust her?

But now, having gone through the Games myself, I understood how looks could be deceiving. Clove proved that some of the smallest tributes could also be the most lethal. The arena was no place to trust _anyone_.

I remembered how early on in the Games, I couldn't even trust Peeta. It was only after Rue had pointed out the trackerjacker hive to me, that I knew I could trust her. In doing so, she had indirectly saved my life, and I knew then that she was trustworthy enough to make my ally.

I hadn't chosen Peeta as an ally until I was certain he wouldn't kill me. When the Gamemakers announced two tributes from the same district could go home, I knew then that there was no reason for Peeta to try to take my life. Only then could I trust him enough to become allies with him.

It was hard to find people who were trustworthy enough to be your allies—especially in an arena where everyone around you is waiting to take your life.

So I understood the dilemma this boy faced when his district partner came to him out of the blue asking for a partnership on which their lives would depend on. Joseph spent another moment hesitating before finally coming to a conclusion.

"Alright," he conceded, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, and lifting his sword off the ground. "Show me where."


	69. Water

They walked in silence as Nadine led the way towards water. The sun just began to rise over the vast desert arena that stretched for miles and miles. Nadine guided Joseph through the desert until they came across a plot of land that was filled with an assortment of pebbles. She picked up a couple of them, and turned one over in her hand.

"Dew," she said, showing Joseph the water that trickled down the bottom of the pebble's surface.

"That's the water you wanted to show me?" Joseph stated irritably. "I thought you were going to lead me to a river."

"This is a desert," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "There _are_ no rivers."

She brought a rock up to her mouth and sucked the water right off.

"Try it," she proposed, handing him a rock.

Joseph glanced down at the pebble hesitantly, before finally drawing it up to his lips, and drinking up the dew thirstily.

When he was done he dropped down to his knees and joined Nadine where she was already collecting more rocks from the desert soil.

Joseph didn't seem to be satiated by the water provided by the small pebbles he uncovered in the sand, so he greedily turned over a large one. The rock was very heavy, but using both hands, he was able to turn it over. To his satisfaction, he saw that it had a lot of dew seeping down its surface.

But then all of a sudden, he drew back fearfully as he glanced down at the hideous creature that had been hiding underneath the rock.

"What is that thing?" he screamed in horror. The creature had eight legs, a set of menacing pincers, and a long skeletal tail attached to its see through body.

"It's just a scorpion," Nadine answered plainly.

"It looks like a giant bug!" Joseph shouted in disgust, backing away quickly.

"Don't move too quickly—you'll scare it!"

"I'll kill it!" he proposed, desperately reaching for his knife.

"No! Don't move at all," she warned. "If you do, it'll feel threatened and bite you."

"Oh yeah, that's very reassuring," Joseph exclaimed sarcastically. "So what am I supposed to do, wait here until it bites me?"

"Just stand still," she cautioned. "And it'll go away on it's own."

"I can't stand still," he said scrambling around frantically. "It's looking right at me!"

"Just pretend you're a tree," she advised calmly.

Joseph did as she said and stood perfectly still, his eyes wide with caution as he watched the scorpion slowly move past him. The panic was still clear on his face as his eyes carefully followed the scorpion, watching its skeletal form slowly make its way down the hill.

"It worked," Joseph sighed in relief once the scorpion was gone.

"See, I told you," Nadine said picking up a rock and slurping up the juice on its flat surface.

_No wonder this girl had made it so long in the games. She knew how to survive. Her brothers taught her well._

Joseph picked up a rock as well, but he still looked panic-stricken, and kept glancing down the hill to make sure the giant bug wasn't coming back.

"I didn't know you were so scared of bugs," Nadine teased noticing his uneasiness.

"I'm not," he countered. "But the bugs here can kill you. Everything in this damn arena can kill you," he said as he brought a rock to his lips and slurped off the moisture underneath it.

A few minutes later, a blood curling scream arose from below the hill and caught their attention. They both ran over to the edge of the cliff to see what had caused the terrifying sound.

At the bottom of the hill there was a female tribute lying helplessly on the ground, with a knife still clenched tightly in her hand. The scorpion skittered past her, leaving two marks on her skin where its deadly pincers had pierced her.

The girl's body convulsed, her limbs thrashing and jerking every which way. Nadine's eyes widened with horror as she watched the poor girl twitch and drool from the poison the scorpion had injected into her.

Then the girl's twitching came to a stop and her body hit the ground limply.

"I guess now we know what happens when a scorpion bites you," Nadine said with a grimace.

"That was supposed to be me," Joseph muttered shaking his head.

A vulture swooped down from overhead and sat on the girl's lifeless corpse. The large bird started gnawing on the girl's bruise, ripping her open, until her insides were bleeding out.

A scared noise escaped Nadine's lips as a terrified look crossed her face.

"Let's go," Joseph directed grabbing her by the arm and lifting her up. He broke into a run, with Nadine close at his heel.

"I thought," she began in a frightened voice. "That when someone dies in the arena, hovercrafts come to pick them up."

"Her death was too boring," Joseph stated grimly. "The Gamemakers probably wanted to spice things up a little."

The girl glanced up at him with a horrified look on her face. Joseph didn't return her gaze, he just kept on running.

When they had distanced themselves as much as they could from the vulture, Nadine pointed to a patch of land that was filled with short leafless trees and a bevy of cacti.

"We can get water there," she said.

"I already tried digging," Joseph argued with a shake of his head. "There's nothing there."

"The plants have water in them," she explained.

Joseph turned to look at her with a doubtful look on his face, as if to ask _what plants?_

I could understand his disbelief. The only kind of plants that grew on that dry patch of land were leafless trees and cacti with tiny spindles instead of leaves, that would surely prick anyone who tried to eat them.

"See that one?" Nadine pointed to a large prickly cactus. "It's got a lot of water in it."

Joseph cocked an eyebrow at her and gazed at her disbelievingly.

"I saw someone drinking from it," she insisted assuredly.

"He didn't die?" Joseph challenged skeptically.

"No," she said. "The girl who drank from _those_—did," she asserted, pointing to a smaller set of cacti that looked like succulent round fruits.

"I thought you already knew that," Nadine added.

"Why would I know something like that?" Joseph asked.

"I saw you cutting down a cactus."

"I wasn't planning on eating it," he said irritably as he stepped up to the larger cactus and slammed his sword against its' hard prickly surface.

_So that's why she paired up with him._

She knew you could eat the inside of a cactus, but she needed a weapon to cut down to its inner watery core. Joseph's sword was the perfect weapon to do this. It was long enough so that he didn't have to come into direct contact with the plant's prickly surface. And he definitely knew how to wield the sword a lot better than I assumed Nadine could.

When Joseph had finished chopping down the cactus, he began carving out its moist white center. He pierced his sword through the middle of the cactus and pulled out the entire edible section of the plant.

By the time he was done, his hands were covered with spindly needles that had pricked him from the cactus' outer layer. He winced as he pulled each one out. Then he pulled out his first aid kit from his backpack and began spreading a healing lotion on his palms. After he was done, he began wrapping his hands with bandages.

"Do you need help?" Nadine asked crouching down beside him.

"No," Joseph answered.

"Let me help you," Nadine proposed again taking the bandages from him.

"I said _no_," Joseph stated firmly, grabbing the bandages away from her. "I don't need your help."

Nadine stared at him with a confused look on her face as he continued wrapping the bandages on his hands without even noticing her.

"Fine," she stated irritably. She lifted his sword and sliced through the center of the cactus. She continued slicing it until it was broken up into several neat pieces.

Joseph watched her as she did all this, perhaps keeping track of what she was doing with his sword, and if she would try to run away with it.

Nadine picked up a slice and brought it up to her mouth. She held it against her lips for a few seconds, probably to see whether or not it would cause an adverse effect. I suppose it didn't because she opened her mouth and took a small bite of it. She chewed slowly, as if waiting for the poison to kick in, so she could quickly spit it out. But nothing happened, so she swallowed it down. She took another piece and continued chewing on it.

"It's good," she said, chewing on another morsel.

When Joseph seemed to be convinced that the cactus wouldn't poison him, he took a slice himself.

"This isn't too bad," he agreed. "It's very watery."

Nadine smiled at him in response.

They split up the pieces into two piles, so that each would have enough to eat. When Joseph had finished his portion, he asked Nadine to watch his knapsack, and then walked over to a tree. He swung his sword at its slender trunk until it broke off. Then he carried the broken tree trunk over to where Nadine sat and began whittling it down. Nadine continued to eat the cactus and watched him as he worked, completely enthralled by what he was building.

When he had whittled the wood down into a medium sized club, he walked over to the leftover outer layer of the cactus, the one embellished with all the prickly thorns that had pierced his skin earlier. He cut down the top half of it, and then fit it over the wooden club he had built.

"You built a mace!" Nadine exclaimed excitedly after having closely watched all the steps he took to make it.

"Yeah," he smiled proudly. "My very own handmade mace."

"I'm sure none of the Careers have a weapon like that," she said eagerly glancing over it in awe.

As she examined the new weapon with its spindly top, Joseph gathered all the remaining pieces of wood, and stowed away as much as he could into his knapsack for future use. When he was done, he grabbed the mace and they headed back to their mud cave.

But when they got there, they were greeted by an unwelcome visitor.

A long, black snake with dark beady eyes was sitting coiled at the mouth of the cave.

Nadine and Joseph stopped dead in their tracks as soon as they saw the snake.

The snake cocked its head at them and hissed, extracting its venomous tongue from its mouth.

"Don't move," Nadine warned. "It'll go away on its own."

The snake rose up and hissed at them again.

"I don't know about that," Joseph retorted anxiously. "It looks pretty comfortable where it's at."

"Believe me," she insisted. "I know snakes. They never want to harm anyone intentionally. At least not people anyway."

All of a sudden the snake lunged at Nadine, baring its venomous fangs at her. Nadine screamed in horror as she saw it coming towards her, its teeth ready to sink into her flesh.

Just then Joseph swung his prickly mace right at the snake, smashing it against the cave wall behind it.

"I guess that's no ordinary snake," Joseph replied.

Nadine gaped at the clobbered snake as it slid down the wall, its blood and guts spilling out.

"You saved my life," she muttered wondrously.

"Yeah and now I have snake guts all over my mace."

He gazed at his sullied mace in disgust, contorting his face as he took in the petulant scent of the snake's remains.

"Thank you," she breathed wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Don't mention it," he said, pulling away. "I owed you one for the scorpion," he said with a shrug. "Now we're even."

He wiped specs of snake blood off his face and focused his attention back on the snake.

As Joseph stood gazing at the snake innards that were now splayed all across the cave wall, Nadine watched him with an adoring look on her face.

When I first watched this game, I hadn't noticed anything strange about the way she looked at him. I was only fourteen, so all her look told me was that she was thankful for the boy who had just saved her life, and finally realized she could trust him.

But now that I watched it again, I saw that there was something deeper in her gaze. Something that told me that maybe her feelings for him were stronger than just the cordial friendship you were expected to have with your district partner.

"Do you think we can eat the snake?" Joseph asked suddenly.

Nadine shook her head. "Its probably poisonous."

Joseph groaned disappointedly. I heard his stomach growl, but it was too late to go out to get food. It was already past sundown, and the Careers would come out to hunt soon.

"You go to sleep," he said. "I'll keep watch."


	70. The Kiss

Joseph picked up a stray piece of wood and used it to scrape off the snake's blood and guts off the cave wall. Nadine had already dozed off and was fast asleep.

Joseph spent the next few hours building more weapons from the leftover wood he had, and eating whatever lizards he could find.

As he worked I could see how he eyed her warily, studying Nadine's sleeping figure with suspicion, as if trying to decipher whether or not he could trust her.

By the time Nadine woke up, Joseph had built enough weapons to line up against the wall. He hid them stealthy in a corner, perhaps so that no intruder could steal them. Then he presented Nadine with a weapon of her own.

"Here, I made you something," he said, handing her what looked like a slingshot he had fashioned out of wood and a couple rubber bands he had retrieved from his knapsack.

"Thank you," she said with a smile, as she admired the gift he had given her.

"If anyone comes in here, you can shoot 'em with a rock," he advised.

She picked up a rock that lay nearby and placed it on the slingshot. Then she pulled the sling back as far is at could go and aimed it at his knapsack. With one motion she let go of the sling, and the rock shot forward, zooming past Joseph's head and hitting his knapsack right in the center where the nation's emblem had been sewn in.

"Nice shot," Joseph congratulated.

"Thanks," Nadine beamed at him.

"I knew you'd be good at it," Joseph said with a smile. "You always had great aim."

Nadine blushed at his compliment, but Joseph didn't seem to notice, because at that moment he let out a big yawn.

"You look tired," Nadine remarked. "You should go to sleep."

Joseph shook his head. "It's still dark out."

"It's almost dawn," Nadine reasoned. "The Careers are probably heading back to the Cornucopia now."

"There are other tributes out there," he argued, albeit tiredly.

"If anyone comes I'll just shoot them with a rock," she said light-heartedly. "Go to sleep. You don't have to worry about me."

"Alright," Joseph said rubbing his eyes tiredly. "But if anyone comes, wake me up."

He fell asleep almost instantly, and once he did Nadine extracted a knife from his belt. She used it to whittle down a small piece of wood into a pipe. She breathed into the pipe causing a whistling sound to escape from its end. She continued blowing through the flute creating a soft lullaby.

Joseph was so deep in his sleep that he didn't even stir as the music played. After a couple hours, Nadine stopped playing her flute. She crept back to where Joseph lay sleeping and slipped the knife back into the holster on his belt.

She brushed her hand lightly against his cheek, smiling to herself. She gently stroked his hair out of his face as she looked down at him tenderly as he lay dreaming. Suddenly she bent down and placed a kiss on his cheek.

_I don't remember seeing this!_

Nadine watched him slumber with an adoring look on her face. Her eyes darted down his face shyly and then she lowered her lips until they were grazing softly above his. She closed her eyes and kissed him, pressing her lips delicately against his.

I gawked at the shocking image on the screen. The Capitol must have cut this part out when they aired the games two years ago.

_And it's a good thing they did—imagine how horrified the girl's parents would be if they saw her kissing her killer._

She pulled back slowly, so as not to wake him. As soon as she moved a couple inches away, Joseph stirred. He bit his lip unconsciously and uttered only a single name.

"Julia."

Nadine seemed to know who he was referring to, because a downcast look glazed over her eyes as soon as she heard him utter the name.

Joseph still seemed to be asleep as he turned over on his side, grabbed onto a non-existent pillow, and muttered drowsily, "I'm going to marry you, Jules."

Nadine frowned at his response, and glanced down at the cave floors with a disheartened look on her face.

After that, she moved to a spot in the cave where she could keep watch as her district partner slumbered on. But mostly she just watched him.

A couple hours later, Joseph woke up stretching. He gave another yawn.

"What's for breakfast?" he asked lightly. He saw a lizard skitter by, and instinctively staked it through with a knife.

"I guess now we know," he said getting up to collect some wood for a fire.

"You were talking in your sleep," Nadine informed him as he brought over some wood for the fire. He glanced at her curiously, and one of his eyebrows shot up.

"You were talking about Julia," she said. "About how you're going to marry her."

He cast his gaze back down to the wood. "We broke up," he said with a solemn look on his face.

"Why?"

Joseph didn't respond, he only kept his gaze on the pile wood in front of him as he shred it with his knife and arranged it into a neat pile. He picked up two rocks and struck them together, creating a spark to light the fire.

"Well, if you win," Nadine proposed. "Then I hope you get to marry her someday."

A forlorn look appeared on his face, as he thought over her words, and probably reminisced over whoever this Julia person was.

"Thanks," he said straining to put a smile on his face as he glanced up at his district partner.

But I could see the sadness still in his eyes. He absently struck a twig through the lizard's belly and held it up over the fire.

"Do you want one?" he asked.

Nadine shook her head. "One of them bit me while you were sleeping," she said showing him the large swollen welt on her arm. "I think it might be poisonous," she said.

"It can't be poisonous," Joseph argued. "I've been eating it this whole time."

"And nothing's happened?"

"No," he insisted. "I mean, I've been seeing things—but that's it."

"You've been seeing things?" she asked incredulously. "Joey, you shouldn't be eating anything that's been making you see things—for all you know it can kill you!"

"Well, there's nothing else to eat in this darn arena, is there?" he shot back heatedly. "I don't want to _starve_ to death!"

"You don't have to," Nadine assured him. "I can show you how to find food."

He groaned. "Does this involve chopping down anymore cactuses?"

"No. I can show you where to find animals."

Joseph stared at her disbelievingly.

"Come on," she said grabbing his hand.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Sorry if this chapter was kind of short. I'm a bit impatient so as soon as I have a part of the story written, I'll post it up. Hopefully I can manage to make the next chapter a bit longer. :p**


	71. Getting Food

"Wait," Joseph said. "I'm not leaving without my weapons."

He walked towards the back of the cave where he had hidden all the wooden weapons he had made. He emptied his until he had made enough room to fit them all inside.

He glanced over at the supplies he had taken out.

"I wont need this," he said throwing the empty canteen away.

"Or this," he added, moving the rope to the side.

_That could've built him a good snare to catch an animal. But I suppose he didn't know anything about building snares._

He saved only the lotion from the first aid kit, which he put in a small pocket in his knapsack. The rest of the supplies he hid behind a rock in the back of the cave.

When he was ready to go, they set off on their journey.

Nadine led the way and didn't stop until they reached a patch of dry land with green vegetation on it.

"I don't see any animals," Joseph said.

"Well, of course you're not going to see any of them," Nadine replied. "They're all hiding."

She walked over to a bush and parted the dried leaves, revealing a bird's nest sitting in the center. There three medium sized eggs lay hidden.

"We can fry them," she said.

Joseph set up the fire while Nadine collected rocks. She layered them over the fire, and poured the eggs on top of them.

As she did that, Joseph cut up another cactus, so that by the time all the eggs were done they had a fresh cactus to eat.

"You can have the last one," Nadine said pushing the third egg towards him.

"We'll split it," Joseph replied. He pulled out his clean knife, the one that hadn't yet been stained by blood, and used it to the slice the egg in half.

When they finished the egg they divided up the cactus between them, and then continued eating in silence.

"So how'd you make it out of the Cornucopia?" Joseph asked suddenly.

"I ran," Nadine replied. "I ran as fast as I could until I couldn't see any people anymore."

"No one came after you?" he asked.

"They did," she answered. "But they couldn't catch me. I went up a hill, and lost them. I guess they were too lazy to come after me, or they just didn't think I was worth the effort. Either way, they turned back and went for the Cornucopia."

"The Careers went after you?"

"Yeah."

"They probably didn't want to stray too far away from their food source. Not in a place like this."

"I guess so," Nadine agreed. "How about you? How did you get out of the Cornucopia?"

He cast his gaze down dismissively. "I don't really want to talk about it," he said staring at the piece of cactus he held in his hands. He took a big bite out of it in an effort to dispel the tension.

The moment was followed by stiff silence as they each finished off their morsels.

When they were done, Joseph's stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence.

Nadine grimaced in reply.

"If we build a bigger fire it might attract some animals," she suggested.

"Wouldn't a fire scare them away?"

Nadine shook her head. "They're attracted to light."

Together they found an isolated bush nearby that they could light up entirely without the danger of having the fire spread to the surrounding vegetation.

Joseph picked up two rocks and scraped them together creating a spark. Then he held them up next to the twigs of the small bush and waited as the fire spread all throughout it. The fire grew larger, and larger, until finally a small rabbit came scampering towards them.

Nadine gently coaxed the rabbit into her arms, and held it there, while Joseph took out his bloodstained knife and tore it through the rabbit's flesh.

"Now we have to skin it," Nadine said, eyeing the rabbit with pity in her eyes.

"You can start," Joseph said handing her his knife. "I'll go put out the fire."

As Nadine began skinning the rabbit with an apologetic look in her eyes, Joseph dug his fingers into the sand and pulled out a handful of it. He sprayed the sand on the burning bush, dousing the flames that covered it.

When he was almost done, he heard Nadine call out to him.

"I got most of the skin off," she said, scrunching up her nose. "Can you help me do the rest?"

Joseph came rushing over. "What do you need help with?"

"I've got to get the head off," she said with a grimace. Joseph stooped down, and Nadine handed him the knife. He pressed it against the animal's neck and tried slicing the rabbit's head off. It was pretty obvious neither of them had much experience skinning an animal before.

He continued grating his knife through the rabbit's flesh until it hit a bone. He tried to push the blade further but it wouldn't budge.

"Maybe you could try your sword," Nadine suggested.

Joseph took out his sword and stepped back a couple paces. Then he heaved the sword upward and brought it down. With one clean swipe, he severed bone and flesh, and sliced the rabbit's head off.

Nadine shielded her eyes with her hands as blood spattered everywhere.

She parted her fingers over her eyes and looked down tentatively at the rabbit and it's severed head.

"Now we just have to pull the guts out," she said weakly.

Joseph glanced at his partner pitifully. "I'll do it," he offered. "Just tell me what to do."

"You have to cut it down the middle."

He stooped down closer to the rabbit, and set his bloodied sword down beside him. He picked up his knife and asked, "Where?"

"Starting at the chest, and then all the way down to its belly."

Joseph made an incision right where she described.

"Then," she continued hesitantly, "You pull its guts out."

He gazed down at the rabbit with a revolted expression on his face. It was obvious he had never done this before.

He slipped his knife back into the holster in his belt, and braced himself before plunging his arms right into the dead animal's belly.

Nadine looked on in disgust as he pulled out the guts and plopped them on the side.

"So gross," she wailed, making a face in response to the nauseating image before her eyes.

"Tell me about it," Joseph replied as he set down another lump of the rabbit's slimy innards on the sand. He looked on in disgust as the blood and slime dripped down his fingers. "I don't know how Hannah can stand to do this all day long."

"Well, she gets paid for it," Nadine countered back with a shrug.

"Definitely not enough," Joseph adjoined shaking his head.

"Maybe she enjoys it," Nadine pondered.

"Oh yeah. Great way to get all her anger out," Joseph joked.

Nadine laughed. "She's going to hate you for saying that on live television."

_Good thing they didn't air it. _

It was one of those moments that weren't aired because the cameras had to switch back to see what was going on with the other contestants. But now that I was watching the unedited version that was dedicated to only one tribute, I could see all the parts I had missed.

Joseph shrugged in reply and gave a small smile. Having taken out the last portion of the rabbit's innards, he stood up and wiped his hands off on his shorts.

Nadine glanced down at her own pants that went down to her feet. She had rolled them up, but the extra layers weren't doing much to keep her cool in the heat.

"How'd you get your pants to be so short?" Nadine asked, noting that his pants had been just as long as hers before they entered the arena.

"I cut them," he answered simply.

"I wish I could do that," Nadine hinted, looking back down at her thick, rolled up pants that had started to roll back down again.

"Here, help yourself," Joseph said handing her his knife.

"Thanks," Nadine smiled brightly at him.

"All you had to do was ask," Joseph said with a roll of his eyes. "When you're done with the pants, cut the rabbit in half will you?"

"Alright," Nadine answered as she poked a hole in her pants.

Joseph eyed the branches of the small tree that had been ablaze just moments before. All the branches were burnt to a crisp.

"I'm going to go find a branch strong enough to hold that rabbit up so we can cook it," Joseph said. "Keep an eye on my stuff, alright?"

"Okay, I will," Nadine said.

_This is the part I had watched._

"You promise to watch my stuff while I'm gone?"

"I'm already watching," she replied lightheartedly.

Joseph walked off to the greener area nearby that was filled with bushes and small trees. He searched until he found a branch that seemed strong enough to hold a small animal over a fire.

All of a sudden he heard a scream coming from Nadine's direction.

He turned around and saw a larger tribute pull his beefy arm around her. He placed one hand over her mouth to silence her. In his other hand he held a sword that was pointed directly at her neck.


	72. Sandstorm

The camera focused on the young girl who was held captive by her attacker, his large muscled arm holding a sword against her neck. The girl's large grey eyes were wide with fright, trying to convey the terror she felt but could not utter, as her attacker's hand remained clamped tightly around her mouth.

The beefy tribute had red hair and a threatening glare in his eyes. But an amused smirk quickly spread on his face as he pressed the blade tighter against his victim's neck.

The next sequence of events happened so quickly that if I blinked I could've missed it.

Nadine stomped on her attacker's foot, and jabbed him in the thigh with her knife. Her assailant immediately stepped back. He clutched his thigh and groaned out in pain, and by that time Joseph had run over and punched him in the face.

The red haired tribute tried to swipe at Joseph with his dagger, but his aim was off, perhaps due to the searing pain in his leg, and he missed. With one swing of his arm, Joseph knocked him down to the ground.

"That's my sword," Joseph growled, as he pressed his foot against his opponent's hand, crushing it down until he had released hold of his weapon.

The fallen tribute yowled in pain as he quickly let go of the sword. He tried to escape, but Joseph slammed his sword down against the sand only inches away from his face. Joseph brought his sword up to the tribute's throat, until he had him lying down on his back, and facing him.

"You don't touch my sword," Joseph hissed staring him dead in the eye. He stooped down and pushed the blade closer to the tribute's neck.

"A Career?" Joseph stated alarmingly, noticing the label on his shirt that distinctly read _District 4_. "What are you doing out here in broad daylight, so far away from the Cornucopia? Shouldn't you be with your friends? Or did they kick you out of their little club?"

The Career grew incensed by his mocking tone and tried to push him off. But Joseph only crouched down lower and pressed the blade closer to the tribute's flesh, causing him to stop moving almost immediately.

"Answer me!" Joseph bellowed. "What are you doing here?"

"The sandstorm blew us out!" the Career finally spat out in reply. "The Gamemakers probably got bored. Wanted to get us out of the Cornucopia so we could finish you off!"

"Finish me off?" Joseph scoffed. "I'm not the one with a sword pointed at my neck, am I?"

The tribute scowled obviously realizing his unfavorable predicament.

"How many more of you are left?" Joseph asked in with a demanding air in his voice.

"We all got out," the tribute replied. "Except for my district partner. She got stuck in the storm. I saw the wind blow her skin right off—"

"What about the rest of the careers?" Joseph interrupted. "Where are they now?"

"They're coming for you!" he snarled, his nostrils flaring with rage.

"When?" Joseph demanded.

The tribute smirked. "There's one right behind you."

"You're lying!" Joseph cried, his patience growing thin.

"I'm not," he laughed. "My job was only to create a diversion. Jewel is supposed to kill the girl!"

"Nadine!" Joseph gasped frantically searching for his district partner. As soon as he found her, his eyes grew wide as he saw an older female tribute from District One descending on her.

"Nadine, run!" Joseph yelled, prompting Nadine to flee. She looked back and seemed terrified as soon as she caught a glimpse of her attacker, but she didn't stop, instead running steadily, aiming for a large hill.

His words echoed in my head, reminding me of a time in the arena when Peeta had told me to do the same. But Peeta was nothing like this boy. Peeta cared about me. He tried to _protect_ me. This boy didn't care at all about his district partner.

_Or did he?_

As soon as Joseph turned back to face his opponent, the Career punched him in the face. Joseph was thrown off balance by the blow, and the Career quickly scrambled to his feet.

Joseph was still kneeling on the ground when his opponent rose up to his feet, but he still managed to swipe his sword at him, slashing him on the shin. The Career cried out in pain, but didn't let this deter him as he grabbed hold of Joseph's head and smacked him in the face with his knee. Blood seeped out from his nose as the Career punched him in the face once more, sending him flying down to the ground.

Once Joseph had fallen, the Career pried the sword out of his hand and held it up to his nose.

"Did you really think I'd let a coal rat like _you_ beat me?" he sneered.

Slowly, he lowered the blade down to his chest. "I could kill you right now," he baited. "But I promised Marcus I'd let him finish you off."

An amused smirk appeared on his face. "He's really mad at you."

I guess Marcus must be the Career Joseph had faced in the Cornucopia.

"He likes to have fun when he makes his kills. You should see what he did to the rest of the tributes," he stopped to let out a menacing laugh. "And he's got a lot planned for you."

With one last smirk, the Career turned and broke into a run. He trailed off into the desert with Joseph's sword gripped tightly in his hand, and a sack of apples dangling from his knapsack.

_I guess the Careers had managed to snag some supplies before they fled the storm._

As soon as the red headed boy had ran off, Joseph jumped to his feet and chased after him, fuming with rage.

Suddenly, he heard a scream descend from a nearby hill that stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked up to see that the girl from District One had lodged her knife right into Nadine's lower leg, immobilizing her so that she couldn't run anymore.

The Career girl had thrown the knife into Nadine's leg at a distance, causing her to immediatley fall over from the blow. But Nadine still tried desperately to crawl away from her attacker. Yet the district one girl continued to gain on her, running up the hill with another knife ready in her hand.

When the tall, blonde girl got to the top of the hill, she saw that Nadine had managed to drag herself across the sand, but not far away enough. She threw a knife directly at Nadine; luckily, Nadine rolled out of the way just in time.

The taller girl came closer and swiped her knife at Nadine, scratching her cheek. Nadine rebutted by jabbing her own knife right in the older girl's abdomen. She screamed out in pain, but kept moving onward until she was towering above Nadine. She raised her arm ready to strike once more, when all of a sudden Joseph lunged at her.

He clung to her back and held his knife high above her head, ready to plunge it straight into her neck. But the girl threw him off balance, and he ended up stabbing her shoulder instead.

The girl screamed out in agony, but didn't let the pain stop her. She elbowed her attacker and pushed him off, throwing him down to the ground.

Then she turned around to face Joseph and whipped her knife at him, but Joseph dodged the blow by hoisting up a large rock he had found nearby. She tried swinging the knife at him again, but this time Joseph swung the rock straight at her hand, striking her so hard that her hand started to bleed. She immediately switched hands and tried aiming at him again.

Then all of a sudden, a small rock shot her right in the eye. Nadine must have used her slingshot to shoot a rock at the Career to distract her. She was temporarily blinded and lost her focus, as Joseph lifted up a larger rock and aimed it right at her chest, causing her to stagger back from the blow. She already seemed weakened by the two stab wounds in her flesh, holding her bleeding abdomen with her broken hand. Yet she still tried to swipe at him, as her last defensive move.

With one strong motion, Joseph swung the rock at her once more, and the Career girl stumbled, falling over the edge of the cliff. But when Joseph and Nadine rushed over to see if the Career was finally gone, they found her still holding on, her fingers firmly grasped around a protruding edge that jutted out from the jagged cliff. The blonde haired girl clung to another rock and used it to pull herself up. She was slowly making her way back up, climbing toward them with vengeance in her eyes.

As she came closer, Joseph lifted up a heavy rock and aimed it right at her head. He smashed it down against her skull repeatedly, until he had finally bludgeoned her to death.

"_That_ is how I got out of the Cornucopia," he muttered after he was done, tossing the blood stained rock to the side.

Together they watched in silence as the Career's body tumbled down the jagged cliff.

When the girl's dead body fell limply across the bottom of the rocky hill, Joseph got up and began descending down the cliff.

"Where are you going?" Nadine asked in a startled voice.

"To get my backpack," he answered.

"You can't go there!" she cried grabbing him by the arm to stop him. "The sandstorm's coming—we have to go the other way!"

Joseph glanced at the burning bush where he had left his knapsack before the Careers had attacked. But the bush was no longer burning.

The small flickers of light that remained had swelled back to a large fire, once he had left it alone for too long. But now the wind blew the whole fire out, with one strong gust, as a sandstorm edged closer.

He saw a giant wall of sand, almost fifteen miles high, moving over the horizon and coming towards them at a slow and steady pace. As it did, a heavy wind blew the backpack away, tossing it forward.

"It's closer now," Joseph reasoned. "If I run fast enough, I can reach it before the sandstorm gets too close."

"You can't risk it!" Nadine said. "You heard what that Career said. The storm killed his district partner! It can do the same to you!"

"Then what am I supposed to do without my backpack?" Joseph yelled angrily. "I had all my weapons in there!"

"What happened to your sword?"

"The Career from district four stole it from me!" he growled, stomping his foot furiously. "I have to go after him."

"We don't have time!" Nadine said anxiously. "Once the storm comes this way, we'll all be dead unless we find a safe place to hide. We have to go back to the cave."

"I need my sword!" Joseph asserted heatedly.

"You can get it after the storm passes," Nadine argued.

"You don't understand," he cried angrily. "The Careers are coming to get me—and I have nothing to defend myself with! I have no weapons! I have nothing left!"

All of a sudden, Nadine pulled out a small, bloodied knife from her pocket. It was the same knife the Career girl had lodged into her leg earlier.

"Here," Nadine said handing it to him. "I saved it for you."

Joseph stared at the knife hesitantly, before taking it and sliding it into the empty holster on his belt.

He sighed before turning around and stalking off in the direction of the cave. Nadine quickly followed after him.

They walked on in silence, with Nadine eyeing him every so often.

"Thanks for saving me," she whispered finally.

"Just forget about it, okay?" he shot back with an irritated look on his face, as if he regretted saving her at all.

Nadine went on hesitantly.

"My brothers said I shouldn't trust you."

"They were right," Joseph retorted sharply. "You shouldn't."

"They told me you'd changed," she said, catching his attention.

_Her brothers? How did her brothers know him?_

"But you haven't," she insisted. "You still look out for me, just like you always did."

_Wait, what? She knew him before the reaping?_

Joseph came to a sudden halt.

"This isn't real life, Nadine. It's a _game_," he exclaimed. "A game where people _die_. So whatever you remember from real life, I want you to forget about it. Everything you remember about me being _nice_, all that's got to go out the window! I'm here to survive, alright. Not to make friends."

"But we're already friends," Nadine insisted with a warm smile.

Joseph let out an exasperated sigh. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Everything from the past, you've got to let it go. In this arena, only one thing matters. And that's who's getting out. Everybody else _dies_."

_He's warning her._

_How come I don't remember this part of the game?_

"I'm not going to be the one that dies," he declared steadfastly. "I'm going to make it home."

He stalked off ahead of her. Nadine just watched him with a stunned expression on her face.

"Maybe you have changed," she muttered to herself.

She hesitated for a moment, before breaking into a run and following after him.


	73. Shelter

The pair continued pushing their way through the desert, despite the gusts of wind whipping at their backs, as the sandstorm drew nearer. The wind grew stronger and swept up the sand that lay beneath their tired feet.

Joseph and Nadine lifted up their arms to shield their eyes from the oncoming gusts of sand swirling all around them, as they pushed on through the desert, desperate to get to the mud cave that would shelter them from the storm.

Nadine limped behind her district partner, trying to keep up with him, but always remaining a couple paces behind due to her injured leg. She staggered onward, until finally, a strong gust of wind pushed her down.

"Ow!" she cried out instantly, as her whole body hit the desert ground that was lined with a million jagged rocks.

Joseph turned at the sound of her voice. He shielded his eyes once more against the gusts of wind raging towards him and tried to make out where his district partner was. For a moment, I was convinced he would turn back and leave her.

But I knew he wouldn't.

He had to get her to cave, because that's where he would kill her.

I watched as he rushed over to where his district partner had fallen.

_He actually seems worried about her._

"Let's go!" he urged, throwing his hand in front of her. She didn't take it. She only shook her head despondently.

"I can't make it," she replied.

"We're almost there," he shouted, over the howling noise of the wind lashing all around them.

"You go on without me," she urged. "I'll find a place to hide down here."

"Do you really think I'm going to leave you here?" he asked grabbing her arm. "Come on!"

_Why doesn't he just leave her? It's obvious she's dragging him down._

"Get up!" he directed.

"I can't," she replied weakly. "My leg hurts too much."

Joseph took out his knife. He cut off his sleeves and stooped down to tie the two pieces of cloth around her bloodied ankle.

"Better?" he asked when he was done.

She nodded silently, as a grateful smile appeared on her face.

"Just try to keep up, okay?" he said pulling her up to her feet.

As soon as Joseph had released his grip from around her arm, Nadine clasped her fingers tightly around his.

"Can you hold my hand?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to lose you."

Joseph looked her in the eyes and nodded as if he understood. He took hold of her hand and pulled her up to a quick trot. As they advanced towards the cave, I studied them closely and noticed Joseph never let go of her hand. Not once.

He was very protective of her. It was strange.

Every time her life was in danger, he would drop everything just to save her. When that Career took off with his sword, I was so sure that Joseph would run after him to reclaim it. But he didn't.

Instead, he rushed to Nadine's rescue, not even glancing back at the knapsack filled with weapons and supplies that he left behind.

_It was almost as if he had an instinctual urge to protect her._

_And he risked everything—his weapons, his sword, his life—just to help her._

I shook my head despondently as I tried to make sense of it all. For some reason I didn't even remember seeing this part when the game was aired two years ago.

_I guess I must have forgotten the details of the game. After he had murdered her, nothing else seemed to matter._

But it was obvious that he cared for her, despite all the effort he put into pretending that he didn't.

They talked to each other as if they had known each other for a long time. Longer than the two weeks most district partners spent getting to know each other.

"_You still look after me, just like you always did."_

That's what she had said.

It was obvious from that conversation that they knew each other even before the reaping.

_But how?_

The only place Townies came into contact with people from the Seam was at school. Yet Nadine was a year younger than Joseph, so they couldn't have met in class.

Outside of school, the only time I saw townies is when I would trade my game at merchant shops. But it was obvious that Nadine didn't hunt. She could barely even skin a rabbit without wincing.

When they reached the mud cave, they began hauling large stones up to the mouth of the cave, and piling them up at the entrance.

As they worked, I continued trying to figure out how the two tributes knew each other.

_Joseph Sherwood._

The Sherwoods owned a furniture store, I knew that much.

_But what was a thirteen-year-old girl doing in a furniture store? _

Their shop was one I never went to. I had no use for furniture as it couldn't feed or clothe my family, so there was no point in trading my game for it. Most people from the Seam didn't shop there either, since furniture could be bought for cheaper prices at the Hob. And with the woods right at their backdoors, most Seam families opted to build their own furniture, just like my father did.

I fast-forwarded through the tape until the two tributes had boarded up the entire entrance with enough rocks to block out the strong winds that continued blowing their way.

"Looks like the storm's getting closer," Joseph said, peering in through the openings between the closely packed rocks.

"Much closer," Nadine agreed, pulling away slightly and rubbing her eyes. "Ugh. I think I got sand in my eyes."

She scoured the cave floor for small rocks that she used to fill up the crevices.

She left a couple small holes open, allowing the wind to rush through the cracks without breaking down the whole barrier.

Joseph pulled out his first aid kit from where he had hidden it in the back of the cave. He sat down against one of the cavern's stone walls, and set the first aid kit down beside him.

"Come here," he called out to Nadine. "Maybe you can find something in here to fix up your leg."

Nadine stooped over the first aid kit, and shifted through the contents. There wasn't anything too important left now that they had lost the healing cream. Just some bandages, anti-septic wipes, and a small tube of what looked like anti-bacterial cream.

"I could use the bandages," she said glancing up at her partner hesitantly.

"Go ahead," he said. "I don't need all of it. Just enough for my back."

He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He had two bloodstained bandages that were wrapped around his upper body, one around his shoulder, and another around his lower back.

Joseph had more muscle on his body than the average fourteen year old, yet it was obvious he had lost more than a few pounds since he entered the arena. Still, Nadine couldn't seem to take her eyes off him.

"I guess we can use this," Joseph said lifting up a small tube of anti-bacterial cream.

His voice caught Nadine's attention, and she hastily averted her eyes back down to the bruise on her leg. She carefully began untying the straps of black fabric around her ankle, which were already soaked with her blood.

Joseph unwrapped his own bloody bandages, pulling them off to reveal two large gashes on his back and shoulder.

"What happened to you?" Nadine asked in an astonished voice.

"Got into a fight with a Career," Joseph replied with a shrug.

She eyed him worriedly as he began unscrewing the lid off the small tube of anti-bacterial cream.

"You should probably clean out the wounds first," Nadine suggested, holding up an anti-septic wipe.

"I know what to do," Joseph asserted. "I've been taking care of myself for the past couple of days without your help."

Nadine shrugged and used the anti-septic wipe to clean her own wound instead. But by this time Joseph had put down the cream and opened an anti-septic wipe of his own.

He wiped the wound on his shoulder, and then his back, trying to reach as much of it as he could, but still not covering it completely. Nadine must have noticed his awkward attempts at cleaning the cuts on his back, because she suddenly stopped treating her own wound. She opened a fresh pack of wipes, and silently reached over to help him.

He seemed to be reluctant at first, but made no remark. Instead, he allowed her hands to clean the wounds he hadn't been able to reach. When she was done, she held out her hand expectantly, "Give me the cream."

Joseph handed her the tube complacently. Nadine continued fixing up his wounds, until they were cleaned and tied up tightly with the bandages. When she was done, she handed the cream back to him.

"You can use the rest of it," he offered.

"Don't you need it for tomorrow?" she asked.

Joseph shook his head. "You need it more."

Nadine stared at him hesitantly as if waiting for him to change his mind.

"You're nothing without your legs," he urged lightheartedly. "How else are you going to run away from the Careers?"

Gaining his permission, Nadine settled down and uncapped the anti-bacterial cream. She applied the rest of the cream on her leg. Joseph pulled his shirt back on and rested his head against the wall, watching as Nadine tied a bandage around her injured ankle.

"You never told me what happened after you got away from the Careers," he muttered quietly. "Did they come back for you?"

Nadine nodded her head solemnly. "At night they came looking for everyone that got away from the Cornucopia on the first day."

"How many of them were there?"

"About five or six. They usually hunted in packs, but that made it easier for me to hear them because they were so loud. Every time they saw me they kept shouting 'I'm going to get you twelve', so obviously I knew they were coming."

"How'd you get away?"

"I hid from them," Nadine answered simply.

"Really? That's how you escaped a whole gang of Careers?" Joseph asked with a laugh. "You just hid from them?"

"I'm very quiet," Nadine shrugged.

Joseph chuckled at this. "You're as quiet as a mouse."

That seemed to bring a smile to her lips, but her smile instantly fell.

"They found the others," she began with a tormented look on her face. "I heard their screams in the night. I saw some of them, too."

Her dark eyebrows knitted over in pain as she looked down somberly at the cavern floor remembering the all of the deaths she had witnessed.

"The Career," Joseph began after a long pause. "The one who slashed me in the back—he's coming back for me. I don't know what to do," he confessed with a concerned look on his face, before adding lightly. "I don't think hiding will work for me."

"You'll find a way," Nadine assured. "I know you will."

But that didn't seem to convince him.

"Without my sword, I'm as good as dead," he said gazing at the floor hopelessly.

_If he depended on his sword so much, I'm surprised that he trusted Nadine enough to leave it with her._

"I really want to win, Nadine," he began with a forlorn expression in his eyes. "I want it more than anything else in the world. I don't want it for the money or the fame. I just want to go home."

"I know," Nadine whispered, gazing at him with a somber look in her eyes. It seemed as though she understood his pain, and his desperate desire to go home. But the look on her face almost made it seem as if she felt more sorry for _him_ than for herself.

All of a sudden a cannon boomed from the outside.

Both tributes glanced warily at the entrance of the cave.

"Someone must've gotten trapped in the storm," Nadine said.

"Maybe," Joseph answered. "Or the Careers are out killing again. I'll stay up and keep watch. You can sleep."

Nadine curled up in ball beside him and fell asleep. There must have been an strong draft coming in from the sandstorm that raged on outside, because Joseph got up and fished out the jacket he had hidden in the very back of the cave. He slipped it on and went back to keeping watch next to Nadine, who lay perfectly still in her slumber.

He gazed down at her sleeping figure hesitantly. Suddenly he unzipped his jacket. He pulled it off and carefully wrapped it around her shoulders.

_That's strange._

The Capitol must have edited that part out.

_Because I would have definitely remembered seeing something like that!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Hmm...what's the relationship between these two? What do you guys think? I hope I've at least managed to make you guys ponder over that. **

**Either way, Joseph is totally going to kill Nadine in the next chapter! **

**So I hope you're all excited ;)**

**Btw, school started, so I'm not going to be able to update as much as I used to anymore! :/**


	74. Murder

The storm raged on over the next few days. Joseph and Nadine survived, as did anyone else who was fortunate enough to find a cave to shield them from the heaps of sand storming all throughout the desert. Those who couldn't find a place of refuge in time, died in the storm. Three cannons boomed on the first night. One more sounded the next day. There was nothing but silence after that.

The two district twelve tributes had managed to stay alive in the cave despite the meager conditions of their hiding place. They had no food or water, and their medical supplies were quickly running out.

Still, they had managed to get by, taking turns to sleep, so that one of them was ready to wake the other in case the storm would end. Nadine managed to convince Joseph to refrain from eating the lizards, but when she fell asleep he would eat them anyway.

Lighting the fire was hard work since the wind blew so hard through the crevices of the rock laden barrier, that the fire would go out and they would have to reignite the fire all over again. Joseph roasted the lizards before he ate them, but sometimes the wind was so strong the fire wouldn't light at all, so he ate them raw.

He was mindful about when he'd have his meals, making sure he never ate while Nadine was awake. When she was up he would usually busy himself with some other activity such as sharpening the wood he had saved. While Joseph built himself new weaponry, Nadine generally passed the time by playing her flute.

"Stop that," Joseph snapped lifting his eyes from the spear he was fashioning. "You're giving me a headache."

He glanced at Nadine with an irritable look on his face.

"Sorry," Nadine apologized, immediately pulling the flute down from her lips.

"I keep hearing this ringing noise in my head," he continued. "And you playing on your stupid flute all day long, isn't helping."

"It's the heat," Nadine explained. "When the temperature changes too quickly, your body doesn't have time to get used to it, so you get headaches."

But Joseph only seemed annoyed by her explanation.

"Or maybe it's because I haven't eaten anything decent in days!" he retorted narrowing his eyes at her angrily. Suddenly he put his spear down, and began pulling together enough wood for a small fire. Nadine watched him in silence, until the fire was lit and she saw him stake his knife through a fast approaching lizard.

"You're not supposed to eat those," she reminded him.

"Well, it's not like there's anything else to eat in this cave."

"But they're bad for you," she argued. "You're better off not eating anything at all."

He threw her an irritated look before replying in a sarcastic tone. "Yeah, and then I'll just starve to death. That's definitely a better alternative."

"You're not going to starve," Nadine assured. "Your body can survive almost three weeks without food. It's not such a big deal," she added with a shrug.

"Well, maybe it's not such a big deal for you," Joseph shot back. "Since you probably starve everyday in the Seam."

Nadine glared at him with a hurt look on her face.

"Since when did you become such a jerk?"

"Since _you_ let a Career run off with my sword!" Joseph yelled angrily.

"That wasn't my fault," Nadine argued defensively. "You're the one who let him get away!"

"Oh yeah," Joseph scoffed. "And whose brilliant idea was it to start a fire?" he asked with an indignant air in his voice. "If it wasn't for that fire, the Careers would've never been there in the first place!"

"I just wanted us to have something to eat," Nadine replied sheepishly.

"And a lot of good _that_ did us," he replied crossly. "We didn't even get to eat that rabbit, did we?"

"No," Nadine replied softly with a guilt-ridden look on her face.

"And now I've lost my sword, and have nothing to fight the Careers with when they come get me, all thanks to you."

"I'm sorry," Nadine replied earnestly. "I promise I'll look for your sword once this storm ends. I'll get it back to you."

"Yeah and I'll probably be dead by then," Joseph sneered. "I shouldn't have trusted you."

His remark must have hurt Nadine, because she suddenly had a wounded expression on her face.

They didn't speak for the rest of the day. Joseph went back to sulking and gorging on his half-baked lizards. Nadine stayed away from him for the rest of the day, until he fell asleep. Once he did, she assumed her position by his side, gazing down at him hopelessly. She let her fingers linger over his face, examining him with a sad look in her eyes.

"What happened to you?" she whispered to herself.

The next day passed by mostly in silence. They went about their work without uttering more than a word to each other. It wasn't until about midday, when Joseph suddenly started retching by a corner that Nadine rushed over to help him.

"Are you alright?" she asked standing over Joseph's crouched body.

"I'm fine," Joseph replied wiping the remaining vomit from his parched lips.

He staggered weakly, trying to regain his balance. Nadine gripped his arm firmly and set him down against a wall.

"You're burning up!" she observed clasping his hand tightly. "I think you might be sick."

"I'm not sick," Joseph asserted through clenched teeth.

"Your heart is beating so fast," she exclaimed, feeling his pulse. "That's not normal."

"I told you I feel fine," Joseph insisted, pushing her away. "Just get away from me. I don't need your help."

Nadine pulled back with a hurt look on her face.

"Are you angry with me?" she whispered. "If it's because of your sword, I promise I'll get it back to you."

Joseph sighed and shook his head gloomily.

"There's nothing you can do to fix it," he said. "Not anymore."

Joseph leaned his head back against the wall and turned his head away before whispering in a hushed voice. "You can't undo what's already done."

"I'm sorry," she implored.

Joseph shrouded his face in his hands and rubbed his temples in frustration. Then he glanced back up at Nadine with pity in his eyes.

"Just forget about it," he said finally. "I think I'm just tired."

Nadine tried to convince him to go to sleep after that, but he insisted it was her turn instead. When she fell asleep, Joseph immediately lit a fire and began roasting lizards. He ate hungrily, catching every lizard he could find. He looked in every corner trying to find animals to eat. When he couldn't find any more lizards to eat, he began eating the small bugs that the lizards fed on.

He kept the fire lit most of the night, having to reignite it every so often. When he wasn't eating he was ardently sharpening the point on his wooden spear. He had a hard time keeping his focus because his hands kept jerking and the muscles around his eyes started twitching. Every time his hands jerked, he dropped his knife, and then he grew furious. Eventually he dropped his attempt at sharpening his spear and instead focused on finding food.

When Nadine woke up, she found him sucking off the juice from a green and yellow lizard he had found. He had only baked it halfway and its green eyes were still wide open.

"Please don't eat those," she implored weakly. "I think they're making you sick."

Joseph glanced at her warily. "Or maybe you don't want me to eat because you want me to starve to death," he contended narrowing his eyes with suspicion. "You've wanted me to die all along haven't you?"

"No," Nadine shook her head ardently.

"That's why you let that Career run off with my sword!" he yelled cutting her off angrily. "So they can come back and kill me!"

"No, that's not what I want!" she replied frantically. "I never even wanted anyone to take your sword!"

"You were supposed to be watching it!" Joseph asserted, seething with anger.

Nadine recoiled from the power of his wrath.

"I've lost everything because of _you_!" he roared at the poor girl, as she cowered before him. Joseph walked to the opposite wall, pacing back and forth, before shooting his district partner a hateful glance.

"I should never have trusted you!" he sneered again, his voice dripping with disdain. "I knew you'd drag me down."

"Then why'd you come back for me?" his partner managed to whisper meekly.

"I shouldn't have," he shot back coldly.

"But you did."

_The first time I watched this I thought she was referring to the time he had saved her from the Career girl. But now I knew she was talking about the time when he had come back for her in the storm. He could have easily left her behind. But something stopped him._

"The only reason I came back for you," he explained. "Is because you were an asset to me. Just like my sword.

"Except now that the Careers are coming after me," he continued as he drew nearer to her. "I realize that I need my sword a little bit more than I need you."

Nadine looked at him with a heartbroken expression on her face. "What did I do to you?" she asked softly. "Why are you so angry with me?" Her grey eyes began to well up. "Please tell me what I did, so I can fix things and we can go back to being friends."

"We're not friends!" Joseph bellowed furiously. He groaned in frustration and clutched desperately at his hair.

"I was never supposed to be in this stupid arena!" he cried resentfully. "My life was perfect—perfect before all this!

"I had a great family—and great friends," he continued with a forlorn look on his face. "Everyone in town loved me. I even had a girlfriend, who I was going to marry. But now—I'm going to die," he stated ruefully, before turning to look at his district partner with a furious look in his eyes. "And it's your fault!"

Nadine gazed at him with a horrified expression on her face, and stepped back a couple paces. But she wasn't quick enough.

Suddenly he lunged at her, fuming with rage. Nadine tried to run deeper into the cave, but couldn't get far due to her injured leg. Joseph's face was gripped by madness as he chased her down. As soon as he had caught her, his strong hands immediately found her throat, and clutched on tightly before she even had a chance to get up.

"It's all because of you!" he cried madly, his bony fingers squeezing tighter around her throat. Nadine's grey eyes widened with fear as she came to terms with what was happening to her. She tried desperately to pry Joseph's fingers from around her neck, but his grasp was too strong. She gazed into her attacker's eyes pleadingly as if imploring him to stop, but her killer seemed too absorbed in his work.

A blinding rage seized his cold blue eyes, as he ruthlessly choked the life out of his district partner. The wild, animalistic look on Joseph's face immediately sent a chill down my spine.

He looked nothing like the amiable young boy who had entered the competition.

His fingers looked more like the sharpened talons of a vulture than a fourteen-year-old boy. The look in his eyes was ferocious like a wild dog, ready to ravage it's first meal.

By the time he had choked Nadine to death, it was clear that he had lost all the empathy that separated man from beast.

_He had lost his humanity._


	75. Humanity

A cannon boomed, just as Joseph released his grip from around Nadine's throat. Her neck was pale, except for the red marks where her killer's fingers had been. Her lips had a bluish tint, which contrasted against the sickly white of her skin. With one more crazed, hateful look on his face, Joseph glowered down at the lifeless body before him. When he was sure his partner was dead, he stalked off to the front of the cave.

He sat down against a stone wall and made himself comfortable, before picking up his knife and the wooden spear he had been working on. He began whittling away at the wooden instrument, resuming right where he had left off, as if nothing had happened.

He didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that his district's partner's dead body lay just a few yards away from him. Nor did he seem to care that the dead body belonged to a sweet, innocent girl who done nothing but help him, and didn't deserve the cruel death he had imparted on her.

Joseph glanced back at the body every so often, but for the most part he simply ignored it.

Eventually, once the storm had passed, Joseph dragged the body outside and dumped it out in the open where the hovercrafts could pick it up.

When he was done, he came back inside and continued building his weapons and feasting on lizards, with a cold indifference to the girl he had just killed.

When I first watched this game two years ago that is what scared me the most.

That he killed someone from his home district so brutally, and he didn't even seem to care about what he did. He had no remorse for his actions.

It wasn't until the next morning, when he had found Nadine's flute lying on the cave floor that a sad look suddenly glazed over his eyes.

He crouched down on the floor and picked up the flute, cradling it in his hands. He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, a single tear trickled down his cheek, as he gazed down at the flute with an unexpected tenderness in his eyes.

"Oh, Nadine," he whispered ruefully. "Why did it have to be you?"

He stared at the flute for a while longer, before unexpectedly sliding it into his pocket. Even as he did, tears continued streaming down his face.

Then all of a sudden, he buried his face in his hands, and let out an anguished sob.

_No! This isn't right. He never cried in the arena. That's not what I remember!_

I stared at the screen completely flabbergasted.

I continued watching as Joseph kneeled over, and his sobs grew louder, echoing all through the cave.

_But he didn't cry. He never cried in the games. At least not in the games that aired two years ago._

It didn't make sense. Why would the Capitol leave this part out? It was the only part that showed that Joseph still had a trace of humanity left. That he didn't feel completely apathetic to committing the most unspeakable act of all—murdering his own district partner. Surely seeing their daughter's killer crying would have appeased some of the pain that Nadine's family must have felt after her death.

"They won't want me anymore," Joseph cried out miserably. "They'll hate me for what I did." His whole body shook underneath the weight of his sobs. "They won't want me back."

Strangely, I knew how he felt. When it came down to just me and Peeta in the arena, I was faced with the choice of whether or not I should kill him. In the moment I spent hesitating about what I should do, I automatically thought about the backlash I would receive from my community for having killed my district partner. How hard it would be to look his family in the eye, knowing I had killed their son.

"I'm a murderer!" Joseph shouted with tears of anguish streaming down his face. He grabbed his hair in his fists and gave an aggravated cry.

"What have I done? What have I done?" he repeated in a tormented voice. His whole body shook with fear, and sweat dripped down his skin, rendered a sickly pale color from days without water. Suddenly, he hunched over and puked on the floor. He lifted himself back up weakly, and didn't even bother to wipe the beads of vomit around his mouth.

Joseph's fingers trembled as he hastily reached under his shirt to where his token lay. It was the same token that Peeta wore in the arena, which instantly sent a chill down my spine.

An image flashed in my head, as I remembered the first time I had noticed Peeta's token. It was in the arena, when I had pulled him out of the dirt and dragged him toward the river so that I could clean him up. I could still remember my fingers running across the three-part pendant lying against his chest, as I carefully scrubbed him clean. At the time, the pendant looked familiar, but I didn't know why.

I had no idea it had a connection to this vile and tormented boy.

"I'm not a murderer," Joseph insisted, shaking his head furiously. He began taking short, panicked breaths. "I'm not," he tried desperately to convince himself.

"Just remember what Percy said," he muttered frantically under his breath. "It's not murder. It's only a game."

"It's not real," he said, clutching tighter to the pendant around his neck. "None of it's real."

That seemed to calm him down and his breathing returned to normal. He placed the token back under his shirt and immediately began gathering his things.

There wasn't much left, since all the medical supplies had run out, and he didn't have much to begin with. All he had was the unused rope as well as the spear and wooden club he had built while the storm was raging on. He used the rope to tie the wooden club onto his belt and gripped the newly sharpened spear tightly in his hand, before leaving the cave.

He walked along for hours, before he saw any trace of life. The desert was empty, most of the remaining tributes having died out due to the catastrophic storm. But by the time he drew nearer to the Cornucopia, he finally spotted someone. It was a tall male tribute with a sack of apples hanging down from the knapsack that was strapped onto his back.

A cruel smile spread on Joseph's face as he caught a glimpse of red headed boy at a distance. He eyed the sack of apples ravenously. He hadn't eaten or drank anything in days. Without his sword, he didn't have any utensils big enough to cut down a cactus. His whole body looked gaunt from depravity.

But most of all what caught his attention was the long gleaming sword with the bronze handle that the tribute touted proudly in his hand. Joseph glowered at the boy hatefully as he watched him strut confidently towards the cornucopia.

With a dogged expression on his face, Joseph followed the District Four tribute, trialing far enough so that he wouldn't be seen.

When the red haired tribute entered the arena, Joseph heard him call out to somebody, making it clear that they weren't the only two left in the game. Joseph quickly hid behind a mound of rocks, realizing that there must be at least one more Career left inside the Cornucopia.

He scanned the desert sand and noticed it was scattered with the supplies the storm blew out of the Cornucopia. But even the supplies that were closest to him were too far for him to reach without immediately exposing himself.

So he stayed put, but he could still hear the remaining four tributes as they emerged from the Cornucopia.

"It's so hot out here," the girl from District Two complained. She had cut her blonde hair short since the first day, probably to counteract the severity of the desert heat, but I still remembered her. She had killed three tributes on the first day just by throwing knives at them at a distance. It was obvious knives were her specialty and her aim was a definitely better than the girl from one. But it seemed she had adopted a new weapon of choice, as she now clutched a small throwing axe in her hand.

"We should hunt at night, when it's cooler," she suggested with a commanding air in her voice.

"Yeah, let's go back inside," the boy from One said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "I can't stand this heat."

"I'm done waiting!" the boy from District Two exclaimed. "That grimy coal boy has been dodging me for over a week. I'm not going to let him get away anymore. And when I find him, I'll gut him like a pig!"

_That must be Marcus._

"Tell me how you let a Twelver get away from you again," the District One boy said with a derisive laugh. "And how he even managed to steal your sword!"

"Shut up!" Marcus roared, shoving him angrily. "If this idiot brought him in like I asked," he stated pointing at the District Four boy, "Then I would have had him already!"

"I'm not doing you any favors," the red haired boy shot back. "If you want him, you can get him yourself."

All of a sudden, Marcus grabbed him by the chest and slammed him down against the metal wall of the Cornucopia. "Watch how you talk to me," he growled, with a menacing glare in his eyes. "Or I might just kill you first."

Marcus must have done something truly horrible to instill fear in them, because none of the other Careers stepped in to help him and the District Four tribute suddenly gulped down fearfully. When Marcus released him, he immediately backed away from him.

"So?" Marcus demanded, turning his attention on the other tributes. "Are you two coming with me or not?"

The girl from District Two gazed back at the Cornucopia longingly, as she wiped a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead. She had a hesitant expression on her face that easily said she would rather stay inside the Cornucopia.

"Yeah, I'll come," she said finally. "Just so I can finish the kill when you let him get away for the second time!"

Marcus glowered at her as she ambled past him with a haughty grin on her face.

"I wouldn't mind a show," the District One boy agreed with a shrug. "This place is starting to get boring anyways," he added casting a dull glance at the Cornucopia.

"It's been days since we've had a decent kill," the shorthaired girl remarked excitedly as she strapped on a belt that was filled with a dozen throwing knives. The other two Careers picked out their weapons and then the threesome set off, leaving the boy from four to watch the Cornucopia.

As soon as the rest of the Careers had left, the red haired boy settled down by the mouth of the Cornucopia and put a large jug of water to his lips. Joseph watched enviously as the boy guzzled down his drink.

Joseph crept out from his hiding place and stealthily advanced towards the Cornucopia. As soon as the Career had taken his last gulp of water and set the jug down, Joseph had already hid behind a large mound of rocks so that he couldn't be spotted. But by that time he had already advanced close enough to the Cornucopia so that he was only a few feet away from the Career.

The tall boy looked down to unhinge the sack of red apples from his knapsack, so he didn't notice when Joseph suddenly ran over and lunged his spear at him.

The Career howled in surprise, clutching the area on his arm where the spear had struck him. He extracted the spear from his flesh and threw it down haphazardly against the ground. He turned and saw Joseph advancing toward him with a wooden baton clenched menacingly in his hand and a wild look on his face.

The Career immediately jumped to his feet and drew the sword from his belt. He swiped the sword at his attacker, but his blow was obstructed by Joseph's club.

"You stole my sword!" Joseph growled with a murderous look on his face. "I've come back to get it from you!"

"Well then, you can pry it from my cold dead fingers, coal boy!" the red-haired boy sneered in reply.

"Oh, I'd love to!" Joseph snarled back as he angrily swung his club right at his assailant, causing him to stagger back from the blow. But the red-haired boy retaliated striking him on his upper arm with his sword.

Joseph retracted a couple steps and hastily picked up the spear the other boy had thrown on the ground. He lifted the spear with both hands and swiped at the boy, knocking him right off his feet. The Career landed on the ground with a loud thud, but that wasn't enough to deter him because he suddenly swung his sword upward, slashing the left side of Joseph's face.

Joseph drew back immediately, letting out a startled cry as his hands sprang up to his face and felt the blood gushing down from his freshly cut wound, which extended from the top of his forehead, all the way down to his chin.

But the searing pain only caused him to grow even more enraged. With an anguished, aggravated cry, he lunged forward and tackled his opponent down before he even had a chance to get up.

A base, animalistic fury surged through him as he pounded the red headed boy's face with his fist. Before long, the Career had let go of his sword, and instead clamped his fingers tightly around Joseph's neck.

But Joseph punched him again until he had grown disoriented enough to let go of his neck. Once he had been released from his chokehold, Joseph immediately sprang up to his feet and grabbed his club.

A bloodthirsty look crossed his face as he struck the redheaded boy in the gut. He continued to beat the boy, with a brutish look on his face, as if he couldn't control the rage inside of him. The boy was already unconscious, but Joseph continued thrashing his skull in with his wooden baton.

He didn't stop beating the boy, until the cannon sounded to signify his death. The loud noise seemed to pull him from his trance, but he still had a wild look in his eyes as he quickly grabbed the sword and slid it into his belt.

He didn't even look at the bloodied face of the boy he had killed, when he stepped over him and grabbed the jug of water that stood a few inches away. He desperately opened the lid and took a giant swig of water.

He drank for a long time, trying to appease the thirst he had accumulated over the past couple of days. By the time he was done, the hovercraft had already appeared to pick up the dead boy who lay next to him.

Hastily, Joseph grabbed the sack of apples lying nearby and broke into a run.

But he didn't run fast enough.

The cannon must have signaled the Careers to know that something was wrong, and now due to the presence of the hovercraft they knew were the source of the trouble was. They came rushing back to the Cornucopia, and as they did, the girl from Two caught a glimpse of Joseph as he ran behind a mound of rocks.

"There he is!" she shouted out eagerly.


	76. The Big Finale

"Let's go get him!" Marcus commanded authoritatively, as he broke into a run, chasing after the boy who had evaded him for so long. His cohorts instantly rushed after him as well, speeding in the direction that Joseph had gone.

But the hovercraft must have stalled the Careers, because eventually Joseph lost them.

When he couldn't hear their voices anymore, he sat down by a rock and took out an apple from the bag that he carried. He bit into the apple ravenously, and got down to its core in only a matter of minutes.

Before long, he had finished almost the entire bag. It was obvious how famished he was. He hadn't eaten any real food in days. His stomach continued to growl as he ate. He didn't even seem to care about the newly scratched scar on his face. He ate every apple diligently, as if it was the only thing he would ever have to eat.

When he was on his last apple, he heard voices approaching from behind. He was hidden behind a large rock, but he could still hear their footsteps as they came closer.

"Where are you coal boy?" a threatening voice came from behind him.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" a girl's tantalizing voice called out.

"We know you're out here, Twelve," the sinister voice spoke again. "We know what you did to fish boy!"

"We're going to kill you anyway," another boy's voice joined in. "So there's no point in hiding."

A frantic look came over Joseph's face and his breathing hastened due to a sudden sense of impending doom. He carefully put down the apple he was eating, and placed a hand over his sword.

"Why don't you come out and face me like a man?" Marcus' voice rang out through the silence of the desert.

Joseph offered no reply. Instead he crept up silently to a large boulder that obscured him from view, and broke into a frantic run.

But as soon as he did, one of the Careers spotted him.

"He's running away!" the boy from District One exclaimed. The Careers set off after him, with their swords, axes, and spears all ready to strike.

For a while, Joseph was in the lead, running as fast as he could, until suddenly, the ground began to rumble and shake. The quaking ground beneath his feet threw him off balance, and he landed on his hands and knees, desperately trying to get back up.

The Careers had also become disoriented due to the sudden earthquake, but were slowly gaining on their prey now that the quake was over.

As soon as he got to his feet, Joseph fled, but the Careers were right at his heel. Then suddenly he cried out in pain and fell to the ground, as a small knife struck him squarely in the leg. It was the shorthaired girl from District Two who had thrown the knife.

"He's all yours, Marcus," the girl said, as the Careers approached closer to him.

Joseph moaned out in pain as he extracted the knife from his leg and attempted to lift himself off the sand. But it was no use, as the Careers were already closing in on him.

"Why'd you run, huh, coal boy?" Marcus asked in a taunting voice. "I gave you a chance at a fair fight."

"Three against one is hardly a fair fight," Joseph spat out through gritted teeth. He glanced warily from one opponent to the other, as if figuring out a way to fight them all at once.

"You're right," Marcus replied with an amused grin on his face. "We _should_ give you a fair fight shouldn't we? So it'll just be _me_ against _you_. And may the best man win."

Joseph lifted himself off the ground tentatively, shooting wary glances at the other two Careers standing on either side of one looming Career standing in front of him.

"Get back," Marcus directed at the two Careers and they pulled back a few steps. "It'll be an honorable fight to the death. How does that sound?"

Joseph nodded his head in approval and pulled out his sword.

"Let's go."

The Career boy narrowed his eyes as he hurled himself at his opponent, thrusting his sword out violently.

Joseph blocked the blow with a dexterous motion of his own bronze-hilted sword.

_How is he so good with a sword? It can't just be something he picked up in the arena._

But sword fighting wasn't something you just could _learn_ in district 12.

Before long, the two tributes were locked in a deadly fight, throwing their swords at one another with expert precision, blocking and turning their positions wherever they needed to.

After a while they each had a fair amount of stab wounds, although none of them were fatal. Still, they continued in their deathly row, until finally, Joseph had pinned Marcus down to the ground. Marcus swiped his sword at him, and a loud clang erupted as their swords met. Joseph pushed his sword down with his own, until they were both resting inches away from Marcus' face. Then, all of a sudden, the shorthaired girl from District Two hurled her axe at Joseph, striking him on his back.

Joseph gasped and staggered from the weight of the blow. He immediately fell to his knees and uttered out a strangled cry.

"You said it would be a fair fight," Joseph managed to choke out.

"I lied," the Career replied with a smirk as he scrambled to his feet. He gripped Joseph's overgrown sandy blonde hair, and swung his fist right at his jaw. He pounded his face once more, until blood flew out of his mouth, spilling down to the desert ground.

"Why don't you just kill me?" Joseph challenged through clenched teeth, as blood seeped down his chin.

The Career grabbed the hair on his head once more and brought Joseph's face close to his.

"You humiliated me," he spat out darkly. He had cruel beady eyes that were full of hate. "I can't just let you die!" he seethed. "I have to make you suffer."

He punched Joseph once more, sending him flying down to the ground.

Then he removed the axe from Joseph's back, throwing it back to its owner. The axe landed in the sand with a thud. Marcus walked to where Joseph lay crouched in the sand, and kicked him right in the gut, causing him to fall over from the blow. The Career hovered above him with an amused glint in his eye, and he prodded, "I promised I'd give you a slow and painful death, remember?"

A playful smirk suddenly crept onto his face, as he plunged his sword right into Joseph's belly. Joseph let out a terrifying cry of anguish. Marcus only laughed wickedly, as he continued to twist his sword deep into his flesh.

"We're going to sit here," the Career said motioning over to his friends. "And we're going to watch you die. Slowly."

The Career cackled as he removed the sword from Joseph's belly, and stabbed in another part of his body, causing another tormented scream to escape his bloodied lips.

After repeatedly stabbing Joseph for a long stretch of time, Marcus finally gave it a rest and sat down on the rocks with the other two Careers.

"I'm bored," he said, staring dully at the wounded boy before him. Joseph was bleeding profusely from various parts of his body, but he still wasn't dead yet. The Careers watched him wither around in pain for some time, but now he had stopped. He was barely able to move at all, and had a certain glassiness over his dark blue eyes.

"Maybe we should start taking his guts out," Marcus proposed with a nonchalant tone in his voice.

"No, you idiot. That's illegal," the girl shot back derisively.

"I'm tired of waiting for him to die," Marcus lamented with an exasperated sigh. "Lets just get it over with."

"Just leave him here," the District One boy proposed. "He'll die eventually."

"No," Marcus barked back. "I want everyone to know that _I_ killed him. I want my face to be the last thing he sees before he dies."

He stalked over to where Joseph lay completely still, drowning in his own blood. He stooped over, and patted his cheek. "You hear that, buddy?"

"You better be awake for this," he said as he raised his sword and plunged it right into Joseph's beating heart.

As soon as he did, a cannon boomed overhead, and Joseph's eyes closed.

The Careers cheered and hooted with laughter.

"You finally did it!" the girl said congratulating her district partner on his kill.

_It was probably a kill he was boasting about making for several weeks now._

"Took you long enough," the boy from District One retorted. "I don't think a Twelver ever lasted this long."

"He's a sneaky one," Marcus spat out in reply. "But it was all deliberate on my part. I was just saving it all for the big finale."

He glanced down proudly at his work.

Joseph lay there, lifeless, with blood seeping out of several stab wounds, the biggest being the gaping gash in his belly. He had a grisly scar running down his face, tainting the beauty he once had. His sandy blonde hair was dirty from weeks without washing, and his lips were parched and bloody. His body was gaunt from having to endure weeks of hunger and his skin had darkened underneath the arena's scorching sun. He seemed almost unrecognizable. He looked nothing like the strong, healthy, and vibrant young boy who had entered the competition.

"Hey, what is that?" the boy from District One asked, pointed to the small wooden flute that lay in Joseph's hand.

_I didn't notice that. He must have taken it out of his pocket before he died._

"It's probably a present, from his girlfriend," the District Two girl suggested mockingly.

"Or maybe it's his token," Marcus said marching right up to where Joseph's hand lay lifelessly against the sand. It had been clenched earlier, but now that all the life had been sapped out of him, his fingers had uncurled limply, exposing the flute that sat cradled within them.

The Career pressed his foot against Joseph's fingers, crushing them down with his shoe, until all the timbers that made up the flute had broken into pieces.


	77. Reflection

**A/N**

**Sorry I was gone for so long, but I'm back now!**

**As always, enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>"He looks so pitiful," the District One boy scoffed as he gazed down at Joseph's dead body.<p>

"I finally put him in his rightful place," Marcus spat. "On the ground, where he belongs."

He kicked at the fallen boy's bloody body, throwing up gust of sand as he did.

"Maybe next time these Twelvers will know better than to mess with someone from Two!"

"You took so long to get him," the boy from District One laughed derisively. "I was starting to think that this coal rat was going to beat you and then I'd have to kill him off myself!"

"Laugh it up, Glow Boy," Marcus growled. He eyed the blonde haired boy with a murderous zeal in his eyes that reminded me of a wild animal who had just found its next meal. "You'll be the next one lying across this sand."

The other boy's eyes instantly narrowed with hatred. "Not if I kill you first!" he roared, lifting his spear as protection.

But Marcus simply laughed at his attempt to shield himself.

"Do you really think you can beat the both of us?" he asked motioning over to his district partner.

The blonde haired boy automatically averted his eyes to his other opponent, the shorthaired girl who had already retrieved her axe from where it lay in the sand.

"Sorry, Carnelian. But I think our time together has come to an end," she said, smiling sweetly at him. She lifted the axe expertly and perched it over her shoulder with ease.

_She only fought with knives at the beginning of the game. She must have killed the district seven girl to get that axe. But she seemed just as comfortable with an axe as she did with knives._

The District One boy eyed both of his opponents warily, obviously coming to the realization that he couldn't possibly win a match against both of them.

"We'll give you a head start," Marcus proposed with a smile, clearly amused by the situation. "It'll be more fun that way."

"And whoever gets him first—wins," the girl from two added playfully.

_This is so sick. _

_It's all just a game to them. _

I felt my stomach knotting over in disgust as I watched the two Careers chase after the District One boy who had once been their friend. I glanced over at the clock to see the time and noted that Peeta would be coming home soon. I quickly flicked off the television screen and extracted the tape, hiding it among the collection of videos we had stored in our living room. I didn't want Peeta to know I had been watching the game.

Judging from the way he looked the day before when he had caught me watching the reaping, I knew this was a game that had hurt him terribly—and he didn't need to be reminded of it.

But I didn't have to finish the tape to know exactly what happened. Just like the rest of the district, I was forced to watch the game two years ago, so I already knew how it ended.

The tributes from District Two chased down the remaining Career and killed him. Then they battled each other until only one of them was left standing. In the end, Marcus had won.

He had to kill his district partner to gain his victory. But he didn't seem to be too bothered by it. He claimed that he had given his district partner a quick and merciful death, in order to "honor" his district, rather than to torment her the way he had done with the rest of his victims.

But it was common for Careers to kill off one of their own, without a second thought to the life they were taking. For them it was nothing but a game.

But to see someone from my own district commit such a terrible act—someone I had gone to class with—horrified me beyond words.

Joseph was in the same year as I was in school, so I remembered him being in some of my classes. Of course, I never spoke to him, because he was a merchant and I was from the Seam. Generally, the two groups stayed away from each other, even in school.

But from what I saw he didn't strike me as a particularly cruel or heartless boy. He never got into fights or bullied Seam children the way I knew some merchants did.

It scared me to think that someone from my own class could become such a ruthless murderer. Someone who took life without pity or remorse, only driven by an animalistic need to survive—slaughtering everyone who got in his way.

Joseph's horrific transformation had bothered me for days after the Game had ended, guaranteeing me countless sleepless nights in the weeks following the live broadcast of the Games that aired two years ago. Of course, back then I hadn't seen the Game in its entirety. I had only seen what the Capitol _wanted_ me to see.

I saw Joseph's initial struggle at the Cornucopia and how he killed the boy from District Ten in self-defense. I saw how he managed to get the sword from the Cornucopia and even outsmarted the Career from District Two. I saw how Joseph killed the boy from three just for taking his water. I remembered thinking it was a bad idea for Nadine to team up with him after he had already killed two tributes. But for some reason she trusted him. I watched how Nadine got ambushed by the Careers and how Joseph blamed her for losing his sword. I watched him kill her, with no remorse, and no tears shed at the loss of his district partner.

After that, I knew the boy he used to be was gone. He bludgeoned the boy from District Four simply to retrieve his sword and then proceeded to steal his food and water. He no longer cared who he killed or how. He didn't even kill for survival; he killed simply to satisfy his rage. He no longer seemed to have control over his actions, nor his conscience.

I watched all of his kills, but had seen none of the tender moments he had shared with Nadine. The way he protected her; the way he cried following her death.

The Capitol replaced these parts with gory scenes detailing the deaths of the other tributes. Some were killed off by the catastrophic storm. I watched as the winds propelled the sand to extreme speeds, blowing contestants away, and tearing their skin right off their bones. Other tributes were killed off more slowly due to thirst or starvation. Some just went crazy because of the heat. But a majority of the tributes were killed off by the Careers.

The Careers made it a habit to kill their victims quickly. They thought themselves superior to the tributes who came from lower districts and didn't want to be bothered in killing them. But Marcus was a different breed of murderer altogether. He _enjoyed_ making his kills. He took his time and seemed to be delighted by the pain he caused his victims. He didn't just kill other tributes; he butchered them. The Capitol, always one to promote violence and shock value, made sure to air every single one of his kills. Including the one where he killed Joseph.

Marcus made sure to give Joseph a brutal death to make him pay for embarrassing him at the very beginning of the game. Even with all the other atrocities I had seen, all the inhuman ways Marcus had found to slaughter his countless victims—Joseph's death was by far the most despicable.

By some twisted trick of fate, Marcus had won. He didn't deserve to be a Victor, not after all the atrocities he had committed.

But that only reminded me of how cruel the world truly was.

How Nadine's family had to watch their only daughter be ruthlessly murdered by her own district partner. Someone she had trusted and even protected, only to have him turn on her at the very last minute, killing her for no apparent reason.

I thought about how Joseph's family must have felt watching his horrifying transition into a cold-blooded killer—and then having to witness his shockingly grisly death. I had to fight nightmares for weeks after that; I can't even imagine how much his family must have suffered.

_And Peeta._

_Was he a family member as well?_

I couldn't be sure. All I knew is they had spent a lot of time together. Everywhere Peeta went, Joseph seemed to follow. They seemed almost inseparable.

I don't know why I had never thought about Peeta's connection to this lost and tormented boy. I suppose when I met Peeta at the reaping, that was the last thing on my mind. But now that I had watched the Game again, it seemed to put everything into perspective.

_Witnessing Joseph's tragic death must have taken a heavy toll on Peeta._

That must have been the reason why Peeta seemed so distraught in the weeks following the Game two years ago—so much that he even stopped coming in to school.

_And I hadn't even bothered to offer my condolences to him. I hadn't even noticed he was grieving over someone's death._

When he came back to school, I noticed that he hardly even talked to his friends anymore. He was alone most of the time, when he wasn't with one of his brothers. He seemed to have distanced himself from everyone.

And according to Madge, people in school started to talk. They said Peeta had grown deranged.

_Could that also have been a side effect of watching the Game?_

_I wouldn't blame him. _

_Having to see someone close to you die the way Joseph did—that would be enough to drive anyone insane._

I knew I couldn't stand it if anything like that ever happened to Gale. I had only known him for a few years, but he quickly became my closest confidant, the only person I could ever really trust.

If Joseph meant nearly as much to Peeta as Gale meant to me, I understood why he changed so much after the Game. To see someone he loved be transformed into a monster, devoid of all humanity, to the extent that he'd be willing to kill an innocent girl out of mere animosity—that must have been a truly horrifying experience for Peeta to be forced to endure.

Suddenly, I remembered the words Peeta had uttered to me on the rooftop of the training center the night before our own Game.

"_I don't want them to change me. I don't want them to turn me into some kind of monster I'm not."_

I never realized how much these words resonated with him on a deeper level.

At the time, I felt confused by Peeta's insistence to preserve his identity, when there seemed to be so much more at stake. For me all that mattered was surviving the Games and not ending up dead.

I didn't realize how much more I had to lose.

Joseph was so determined to win, that he had lost everything in the bid for victory. He followed his instincts and turned off his conscience all in the name of survival, until he had turned into nothing more than a brutish animal; killing people for food and water, battering people to death for taking his material possessions, and showing complete apathy and no remorse for all the murders he had committed. By the end of the game he had completely lost touch with his human side.

"_If I'm going to die, I want to still be me."_

Peeta's words thundered in my head, as I finally understood the true meaning behind them.

Peeta didn't want to die like Joseph had. Having lost his humanity—his ability for rationale and compassion. He didn't want to stoop to such lows to salvage his life only to have it taken away from him in the end.

From the start, Peeta had always been convinced that he was going to die in the arena. Perhaps seeing Joseph die by a Career's hand, even after all he had done to stay alive, was what perpetuated Peeta's fear that dying in the arena would be inevitable.

_Oh, Peeta. _

I finally understood why he acted the way he did in the Games. He was tormented by this boy's death.

I let out a sigh and curled up in my bed. My eyelids were heavy with fatigue so I let them close.

But as soon as I did, the nightmares came.

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><p><strong>AN**

**I needed a transition chapter between the Games and reality and well, this is it. But I promise to give you some serious Peetniss stuff in the next chapter! ;)**

**Thanks to KnottedEnergy for your comment on why Peeta went crazy. As you can probably tell, that was always the plan, but you phrased it so effortlessly, I decided to use it in my story. I hope you don't mind!**

**Oh, and I used several phrases that Peeta said in the book/movie. I don't know whether he said both of them in the book, but it was all I had to work off of seeing as how I don't have the book in my possession and google kind of sucks when you're looking for direct quotes. :/**

**PS- Idk if any of you have noticed but...its this story's one year anniversary! :D**

**For all you guys who've been reading this story from day 1, thanks for sticking around! I never thought I'd last this long on fanfic, but you guys make it fun for me to continue writing and adding more chapters to this story! ^_^**


	78. Monsters

**A/N**

**I'm still in the process of writing the Peetniss part (aka Keeta), so for now you guys can get a look into what Katniss is dreaming about. Remember, this is what Katniss dreams about right after she finishes watching Joseph's game, so obviously, she's pretty traumatized.**

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><p>I was perched high up on a sturdy branch that twisted out at unnatural angles, as if an arm reaching out into the night. Amid the darkness I could see the abundance of artificially green leaves that surrounded me. I squinted down and saw four sleeping figures at the base of the tree; another dutifully kept watch.<p>

I scowled as soon as I recognized one of the faces.

_He betrayed me._

I took out my knife and began sawing off a branch that hovered in the darkness only a few inches away from where I sat crouched on the tree.

_I'll make him suffer for what he did to me._

I continued grating my blade against the wood of the tree, until finally the branch gave way, and the hive came plummeting down.

A triumphant smile lit up my face as soon as I heard the screams come from below.

The tracker jacker bees buzzed around me, but I knew most of the damage would be done on ground level, where I had dropped the hive. I began making my way down the tree.

By the time I had hopped off the last branch, I noticed that most of the tributes were dead.

Including Peeta.

A wave of anger pulsated through me as I look down at him, withering around on the ground.

_He pretended to be my friend just so he could betray me to the Careers._

_He got what he deserved._

I gained a sudden sense of satisfaction gazing down at his dead body; pale but speckled with red blemishes where the tracker jackers had bit him. The poison rapidly entered his bloodstream. Soon the stings had swollen up to bulbous lumps that covered his arms and face, and white foam began spilling out of his mouth. Suddenly his blue eyes didn't look so pretty anymore.

I turned my attention on another tribute—a blonde headed female from district one. The tracker jackers had already gotten to her, and her body looked disfigured from all the bite marks that had swollen up on her face. In her wrangled, sickly looking hands, she clutched on tightly to a shiny, metallic bow that glistened in the light that shimmered from the sun as it rose over the horizon. On her back she had a quiver filled with sleek, finely crafted metal arrows.

They were _my_ arrows.

My eyes narrowed as I quickly dashed over to where the dead girl lay limply in the foliage. I tore the quiver of bows off her back and then proceeded to pry her fleshy fingers from around the bow.

It's _my_ bow, I thought to myself as I desperately tried to wring the weapon from her grasp. But it wouldn't budge.

All of a sudden, I saw the girl's eyes shoot open, as her hand jerked forward, slamming my face. My cheek throbbed with pain but I wouldn't let go. The bow was _mine_, and I wouldn't leave without it.

I continued pulling at the weapon, but the girl fought back stubbornly. I grabbed an arrow from the quiver that lay on the ground and stabbed it through her chest. Suddenly, the pure joy of killing her filled my heart, and I grabbed another arrow and jabbed it through her heart once more. I continued piercing the metal through her skin, until finally she stopped resisting and fell to the ground. I ripped the bow free from her grasp and jumped to my feet.

As soon as I did, my vision blurred and my mind grew hazy. I knew instantly that the tracker jackers had bit me during the fight. Their venom was quickly seeping through my bloodstream, causing me to see things that weren't really there.

I closed my eyes trying desperately to rid my mind of the awful visions. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in a green pasture. The disfigured bodies of the tributes I'd killed were replaced with a lone figure that sat hunched in the near distance, his hands around a large wooden spear.

_Marvel._

I grit my teeth together as soon as I realized what was happening.

_He killed her!_

And now I wanted nothing more than revenge. I felt a rush of power surge through my body as I lifted up my bow and sent an arrow flying straight in his direction. The arrow landed in his back, and his body fell limply to the ground.

"Rue!" I cried out as I rushed over to the young girl with a spear jutting out of her tiny body.

But when I came closer, I noticed it wasn't her body lying lifeless in the meadow.

"Nadine?" I whispered.

Her curly, black hair looked much like Rue's at a distance, but her olive skinned complexion was distinctly different. Her lips were blue from strangulation, and she still had the red imprint of Joseph's fingers around her neck. The spear protruding from her belly looked unnatural because I knew that wasn't how she really died—but it reminded me so much of Rue.

And Rue only reminded me of Prim.

I knelt down beside the girl and gently stroked her black strands of hair out of her face. Her pale face was contorted into a look of horror, just like it had been in the moment her life was stolen away from her. Her grey eyes were glassy and lifeless, but they reminded me so much of my own.

With her olive skin and dark hair, she looked more like my sister than Prim did.

I shook my head dolefully as I gently brushed my fingers over her eyes, closing them.

I glanced over to the spear that jutted out from her middle and silently debated over whether or not I should pull it out, when suddenly a giant vulture swooped down, landing on Nadine's dead body.

The hateful creature buried its sharp talons into her leg and proceeded to bite and tear her belly.

"No, not Nadine!" I cried in protest. "You've already killed her. What more do you want?"

But the monstrous creature ignored my cries and continued gnawing at her flesh. I quickly grabbed the spear and used it to swipe at the large creature, catching its attention. The vulture cocked its ugly head at me, looking at me with a threatening expression in its eyes.

It was Peeta's blue eyes.

I stepped back fearfully and looked down at my weapon.

_What am I doing? I don't even use spears._

That was Joseph's weapon. I dropped the spear and it fell to the ground. When I looked up I was no longer facing a vulture, but instead a large dog with blue eyes.

That's when I realized it wasn't Peeta's eyes I was staring into. It was Joseph's. Their eyes looked so similar.

The dog growled at me, a bead of spittle dripping down its massive jaw, and then it pounced. I ran as quickly as I could but as I did I noticed several other mutts gathering around me, joining the hunt.

I kept running and before I knew it, I was sitting on the roof of the Cornucopia. I didn't know how I got there but I was aware that the mutts were all crowding around the base.

I heard an anguished cry from down below and noticed it was Cato, being ripped to shreds by the mutts.

"Katniss, what are you doing?" I heard a voice shout at me.

I turned and saw Peeta standing next to me.

_I thought I killed you already. What are you still doing here?_

"Shoot him!" Peeta yelled motioning down to where Cato was being mutilated by the dogs. "Just kill him already!"

"No," I shook my head stubbornly.

"But he's dying slowly!" Peeta cried frantically. "Can't you hear him screaming?"

I did. And I was enjoying it. I took pleasure in watching him suffer, watching him whither around in pain.

"Just put him out of his misery!" Peeta urged with a pained expression on his face.

"He needs to suffer," I asserted. "For everything he did. All those people he killed."

I looked down and saw it was no longer Cato's body the mutts were feasting on. It was Joseph's.

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><p><strong>AN**

**I love analyzing dreams! ****I think they hold a lot of meaning in regard to a person's fears, worries, etc. But w****hat do you think Katniss' dream means?**


	79. Broken

All of a sudden the mutts disappeared and everything grew quiet; even Cato's tormented screams were extinguished. All I felt was a throbbing pain in my forehead. I looked around at my surroundings and noticed we were back in the cave. Peeta was holding me and gazing into my eyes with a warm smile on his face.

"Thank you, Katniss," he whispered earnestly. "You didn't have to get me the medicine but you did. I can't believe you risked your life for me…"

_It was worth it._

I smiled back at him. He stroked my hair lovingly, and continued to hold me. I felt his fingertips gently brush my collarbone, as he cupped my face in his hands.

"But now that I have the medicine, I don't need you anymore," he whispered, bringing my face closer to his. "You're useless to me."

All of a sudden the smile on his face grew even wider.

"And now I can finally kill you!" he screamed with a wild look in his sinister blue eyes as his fingers clenched around my throat and pressed down hard. I felt my windpipe crushing as I struggled to breathe.

"Peeta! Stop! Please!" I managed to choke out, as I gasped for air. I tried desperately to pry his fingers from around my neck, but it was to no avail. The vicious, steadfast look in his eyes told me that he wouldn't relent, no matter how much I screamed.

My eyes shot open. I could hear my heart pounding against my ribcage, loud and clear, so I knew I was still alive.

But I noticed Peeta's arms were still clenched tightly around me, and I quickly pulled back in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"I was just trying to wake you up," Peeta replied. "You were screaming in your sleep."

I glanced at my surroundings warily, and noticed we weren't in the cave anymore. We were in my bed.

"I heard you call my name, so I rushed over here," he explained. "You were having a nightmare, that's all."

I could still hear my heart thumping loudly in my chest.

_It was all just a dream._

I let out a sigh. He was only trying to console me.

_He would never hurt me._

I gazed tentatively over his broad shoulders and arms. There were some small scratch marks from before, but there didn't appear to be any fresh ones. At least I knew I didn't hurt him this time.

"Are you alright?" I heard him say. I nodded my head. "I am now." I buried my face in his chest, and let him drape his arms around me and hold me.

"You seem pretty shaken up," he remarked. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"We were in the arena," I said quietly. "And you tried to kill me."

I felt his grip loosen around me as he pulled back in surprise. A concerned look seized his face, as he gently cupped my face in his hands. "Katniss," he began, tilting my head until my eyes met his earnest blue ones. "I would never, ever do anything to hurt you," he stated sincerely.

"I know," I said, placing my hand over his.

_I know he isn't anything like that boy, Joseph._

_But then why did I dream that he was?_

Peeta smiled at me as he gently brushed my cheek with his thumb. But his expression grew more serious as he asked, "Did anything else happen?"

_Well, I also killed you._

But I didn't feel like mentioning that part. It didn't seem like the right moment for it.

"I heard you screaming out some names," he explained. "Rue."

He dropped his gaze before adding, "Nadine."

"I saw her in my dream," I whispered. "She was dead."

"Did you—" he began tentatively. "Did you know her?"

I shook my head. "All I know is what I saw in the game."

A relieved look crossed his face. "Well," he said gently combing his hand through my hair. "That happened two years ago. You shouldn't let that bother you."

I rested my head on his shoulder, and let him continue stroking my hair as I decided whether or not I should tell him.

When I finally opened my mouth my words were only a hushed whisper. "I watched the game again today." I felt his hand stop in mid motion.

He automatically pulled away from me and eyed me with a concerned look on his face.

"Katniss, you shouldn't be watching the games," he admonished. "It'll only make your nightmares _worse_!"

"I wanted to know what happened," I explained. "Why it meant so much to you."

The expression on his face softened, but he remained silent.

"He wore the same token as you," I added quietly.

For a moment, he regarded me with an solemn look in his eyes before hastily tearing away his gaze. "It doesn't mean anything," he insisted.

"It means justice," I reminded him.

Peeta fixed his blue eyes on me once more.

"Was he a family member?" I asked.

He didn't answer but I saw him shift on my bed uneasily, as he repositioned himself so that he was facing away from me. He sat up with his elbows propped up on his knees. When he finally looked at me again, he had a hesitant expression on his face.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked in a somber voice. "After _everything_ he did, would you want to know that he's _related_ to me?"

"Yes," I insisted. "Because I know you're nothing like him."

"We share the same blood," he whispered gravely. "So maybe I am like him."

Just the thought made my skin crawl.

_He couldn't be anything like that cruel, heartless boy could he?_

No. I knew him well enough to know that he wasn't. He didn't have it in his heart to kill anyone. I moved closer to him until we were only inches apart.

"He was your cousin, wasn't he?" I guessed.

Peeta nodded, still not meeting my gaze. "But I've lost so many cousins over the years, that it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? They're all just pictures on a wall."

"He must have meant more to you than that," I suggested gently. "I saw you with him all the time."

Peeta seemed to be taken aback by my response. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I thought you never noticed me before the reaping?"

I fingered my hair nervously before answering. "I noticed some things."

"Like what?"

"Like how sad you were after Joseph died," I answered, my voice barely a whisper. I inched closer to him, and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "You stopped coming in to class. You didn't talk to anyone, not even your friends. You stopped playing soccer by the school's front yard."

"Everywhere I went, it just reminded me of him," Peeta mumbled his response. "School, soccer, gym. Knowing him for as long as I did, it made it hard to find a place that didn't bring back his memory."

"He must have meant a lot to you."

A pained expression crossed his face as he nodded grimly and buried his face in his hands. He stayed like that for a while before finally pulling together the strength to speak to me again.

"We grew up together," he began slowly. "He taught me how to stand up for myself."

"Your brothers didn't teach you?"

Peeta shook his head. "But he _was_—like a brother to me."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"Why should you be?" he muttered indifferently. "Everyone loses someone. That's just the way it works."

"No," I argued. "Not like _that_."

_They don't have to watch their friend be tortured to death on live television._

"What Marcus did to him—it was terrible."

Peeta's face contorted into one of disgust.

"I'm sorry," I added hastily, realizing my mistake. "I didn't mean to put the memories back in your head."

He shook his head. "They're always in my head. Every day. I can't seem to get away from them."

I knew how he felt. Following my father's death, I had suffered from not only nightmares, but also daytime hallucinations that had detailed a death I had never actually seen.

But I lost my father in a mining accident, so I didn't have to watch him die. Yet there was almost an hour of footage detailing Joseph's grisly death, and Peeta had been forced to watch all of it.

Suddenly my nightmares of my father's death didn't seem as daunting as Peeta's must have been following his friend's death. Even I had nightmares about it and I didn't know him.

_No wonder Peeta is so haunted by Joseph's death._

Peeta hunched over dejectedly as he continued in a hushed voice.

"I keep hearing his voice in my head, screaming over and over again. Begging him to stop. Begging him—to just kill him."

_Marcus was a monster for what he did to him._

_But then what did that make me?_

_I had let Cato die a slow and painful death too. I let him get ravaged by those mutts, when I could have easily shot an arrow through his heart, and ended his life right then and there._

_Did that make me a monster too?_

"I know it must have been hard for you to see that." I ran my hand across Peeta's back soothingly.

"It was even worse watching him do it others," Peeta added in a strained voice. "I couldn't even recognize him anymore."

"Is that why it mattered so much to you? Your humanity?"

Peeta nodded gravely. "He wasn't like that, Katniss. The games—they ruined him. They turned him into something that he wasn't."

I could hear the tremor in his voice as he continued. "He would never _kill _innocent people like that."

I knew exactly who he was referring to.

_Nadine._

"They knew each other didn't they?"

I caught a pained look in his eyes before he quickly averted his gaze from me.

"I can't," he paused and shook his head frantically. "I can't talk about it right now."

_Not here. Not in this house._

"It's alright," I assured him. "We don't have to talk."

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders in an effort to comfort him.

"They turned him into a monster Katniss," I heard him breathe into my shoulder in a quivering voice. "They took everything from him. And then they just killed him in the end."

I heard a strangled noise escape his lips as he suddenly broke into a sob. I welcomed him in my arms and let him cry just the way he had done for me so many times before. When he had calmed down, I laid his head down against my pillow and pulled the covers over him. I snuggled up beside him and held him close to me.

When I looked into his eyes I noticed there were still remnants of unbearable pain held within them.

"You really loved him, didn't you?" I whispered, stroking his golden blonde hair. It had gotten longer since the Victory Tour.

"Yes," he managed to choke out in a tremulous voice.

He seemed so broken. The healer inside of me just wanted to fix him.

I cradled him in my arms as if trying to ward off all the emotional demons that haunted him. I remembered when I used to do the same for Prim. After my father's death, her nightmares had gotten intolerable and she would often wake up screaming and crying frantically. I would hold her just like this, rocking her to sleep until her eyes finally fell closed.

_I could do this. I can be strong for him._

After all, being strong is what I was always good for.


	80. Turning Point

**A/N**

**I know you guys have been waiting patiently for some Peetniss fluff, so here's a huge chunk of it! :D**

**For those of you who have been reading my story from day 1 thanks so much for sticking around! :)**

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><p>I woke up in his arms.<p>

A sliver of moonlight streamed in from the small window in my room, shining across Peeta's peaceful face as he lay there sleeping. I still cradled him in my arms, but somehow throughout the night, Peeta had managed to wrap his arms around me, shielding me from the chilly draft that blew in through the window.

I had the covers pulled up to my chin, but nights were getting colder as winter approached and I was grateful for the extra warmth provided by his company.

I pressed my head closer to where it lay against Peeta's chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, as he took each breath and exhaled it quietly in his sleep. It reminded me of the time we spent cuddled up in the arena when I anxiously awaited each beat of his heart, so that I'd know he was still safe, and the fever hadn't taken him yet.

Surprisingly, unlike most memories I had of the arena, this one left me with a warm feeling inside. Even though I knew that our romance in the arena had all been a ruse, I liked the idea of having someone to hold on to when it seemed like everyone else was out to get me. I knew I couldn't trust Peeta, but for a few moments I had allowed myself to believe that his arms would keep me safe from harm.

It was that false sense of security that had allowed me to fall asleep in his arms, night after night, as we were carted from one district to another on the Victory Train. Despite the imminent doom I felt being surrounded by so many people from the Capitol, and despite how haunted I felt by my nightmares, with Peeta lying on the other side of the bed, somehow I felt safe.

That's when it hit me—just how much I missed sleeping with him, his strong arms sheltering me from the nightmares that haunted my sleep and protecting me from the coldness of my reality.

I had denied myself this for so long, ever since the Victory Tour ended, all due to my own stubbornness. I didn't want to admit that I needed him to be there to get a good night's sleep. I didn't want to give in to the feelings that said that sometimes I wanted him there to keep me company, just because I liked the touch of his skin against mine.

I knew those feelings could be dangerous. I couldn't let myself get too attached to him.

So despite how much I enjoyed being held in Peeta's warm embrace, I reluctantly tore myself out of bed. I urged myself with the excuse of having to give out the remaining packages of food to the families in the Seam before the crack of dawn.

After that I stayed at my mom's house until noon. We didn't talk much. We never did. I could still remember the days when she used to be so full of life. She used to talk to me about everything. But that person disappeared just as soon as my father did.

Lately, I had started to feel more comfortable being around Twill than my own mother. But I stayed there anyway, getting Prim ready for school and then taking care of the house until noon.

I didn't want to face Peeta after what I had told him yesterday—I could tell by the look on his face that I had revealed too much. He seemed surprised when I told him I had noticed how much he changed after his friend's death. I was even more surprised to hear the words coming out of my mouth. But I couldn't help myself.

_I was only trying to comfort him._

But looking at my mother I knew I couldn't devote too much of myself to Peeta. Looking at her, I knew what would become of me if I did.

And yet I had so many questions running through my mind that only Peeta could answer.

Most of them were about the game I had watched.

Others were more personal. I still didn't know why he gave me the bread.

"_You know why…" _

That was his answer when I had asked him in the arena. But I still didn't understand _why_.

_Did he do it out of pity for a poor, starving girl? Or did he do it just because he liked me? Did he think giving me those two loaves of bread would make me like him back?_

My eyebrows furrowed over in agitation. I let out a frustrated sigh. It was getting harder and harder to figure out the boy with the bread.

I continued scrubbing the floors, letting my frustration spill into my work. When I was done cleaning, I trekked back to the Victor's Village, where I had agreed to meet Peeta. He'd promised to take me to his mother's house so we could talk privately, and I had so many questions for him.

_How did Joseph know how to fight so well with a sword? How did he know Nadine? Were they friends or something more? And why doesn't Peeta trust Haymitch?_

When I got home, Peeta wasn't there yet, so I got out my mom's old medicine book to pass the time. I went to the den where there was a small study with a bookcase filled with titles I had never bothered to read, a small wooden desk, and a couch. It was the same couch I had slept on before Peeta had built me the bed. It was funny, after all that time I had spent avoiding him, it felt so good to be sharing a bed with him again.

_No, I can't let myself feel that way about him._

I sat down and opened the book in an effort to distract my mind from thoughts of Peeta. I sifted through the pages looking at all the hand-drawn illustrations of flowers and their medical uses written neatly beside them.

A small smile formed on my face as I reminisced on the times my mother had spent teaching me how to draw each flower. She had grown up as a merchant's daughter so her parents could afford to spend money on art lessons, especially if it would help to distinguish between different plant types. After all, her family craft was medicine, and identifying different medical plants was part of her job.

I gently fingered the yellowed paper before me as I thought back to the time when I had spent countless hours learning to draw the flower that was now sketched on the page. My mother would show me how to draw each new plant I'd find, and then I'd have to go through several sketches until I drew it just right. Then when I finally got the image I wanted, I'd reproduce it on a clean page in the book and carefully ink out the description beside it, using my best penmanship. My mother always praised my work and told me what a good healer I'd be one day.

Every day after I came home from school, I would spend hours poring over that book, learning how to draw each flower just like my mother did. I didn't go out and play like the other Seam children did. They didn't have a craft to learn like I did. It was something my mother had passed on to me from her merchant days, and I treasured it. It made me feel special.

All of a sudden I heard the door creak behind me and footsteps tread softly on the floor. I turned and saw Peeta standing next to me.

His eyebrows knitted over as he gazed down curiously at the open book spread out before me.

"Did you draw that?" he asked in surprised tone.

My eyes fell to the page, and I realized the illustration was one of the more recent ones I had sketched just a week before my father died. It brought back so many memories.

"Yes," I answered hoarsely, still lost in my thoughts.

"It's beautiful," he remarked with a tinge of awe in his voice. "I've never seen flowers like that before."

_Of course you haven't. These are flowers you can only find in the forest._

But I couldn't tell him that in this room. There were no cameras or audio devices, which is why I had initially chosen to sleep there, but I could never be too sure.

"Thanks," I replied with a half-hearted smile. I carefully closed the book, and brought it close to my heart, hugging it.

"Did your dad teach you how to draw like that?" he asked leaning with his back against the desk.

_So he must have figured it was something I'd seen in the forest._

My lips turned up a bit at his quick-wittedness, but I shook my head. "My mom did."

"So, good looks, ability to heal people, and artistic talent," he listed with a thoughtful look on his face. "Seems like your mom gave you all her best qualities."

My face burned. "I look nothing like my mom."

Peeta smiled. "You're still beautiful."

I looked away from him, trying not to hide behind the book that I held in front of me.

"Did you tell your parents you won't be showing up at the bakery today?" I asked in a desperate attempt to switch topics.

"Yeah, I just got back from there now. They said they'll be fine on their own for today. My father says I should just stop coming in to work now since I'm a Victor, but something tells me that's what helps draw in the customers these days."

Lately, everyone in town seemed to want to get a glimpse of us. Ever since we were crowned Victors, we had garnered a lot of attention from our fellow district members. And they were very nosy; especially about our personal lives.

"We should go then," I said shooting up from my chair. It would be better to walk through town in the afternoon while most people were still too preoccupied at work to be too much of a bother to us.

I didn't mind flaunting our relationship in front of the public, but I hated it when people would stop us in the streets and expect some long-winded conversation about how in love we were and how well our marriage was going.

"Wait," I heard Peeta call out as soon as I got to the door. I turned to face him.

"I, um," he began, running a hand through his hair as he approached me. He dug his hands into his pockets as soon as he got near to me.

_Is he nervous?_

_He always seemed so good with words._

Peeta let out a long sigh before continuing. "I just wanted to thank you for being there for me last night."

He looked down at the floor and bowed his head slightly as if he were embarrassed about what happened.

I shrugged. "It was nothing you wouldn't do for me."

"Yeah, but, you didn't have to watch the game," he said, his eyes still glued to the floor. "It was bad enough you had to watch it the first time."

"I wanted to understand what happened," I said softly. "I wanted to know why you changed so much."

His blue eyes shot up, as he regarded me with a look of surprise etched on his face. "I still can't believe you noticed all those things about me."

"Everyone noticed," I answered simply. "You stopped coming in to class."

"Yeah, but _you_," his face flushed a little before he continued. "I didn't even think you knew my name before the reaping."

"Of course I did."

"I always tried so hard to get your attention," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But I never thought you'd actually notice me."

He looked at me shyly, with a hopeful glint in his soft blue eyes. I twirled the end of my braid hesitantly.

"I did notice you," I whispered finally. "Ever since that day, when you gave me the bread."

Peeta stared at me in disbelief. "_That's_ when you noticed me?"

"It was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me."

Peeta regarded me with a startled expression on his face. "You can't mean that."

"It's true."

His eyebrows knitted over with concern as he shook his head ruefully. "I should have done more. I should have gone up to you, and invited you inside. It was raining so hard that day. You could have died out there."

"But I didn't. Because of you."

Peeta sighed as he took a step forward, closing the distance between us. He took my face in his hand and caressed it tenderly. "I worried so much about you," he whispered. "I wanted to give you something _more_—to help you," he insisted. His hand fell from my face as he avoided my gaze shamefully. "But I was too scared."

I shook my head. "It was brave. What you did for me."

I could tell by the tormented look on his face that he didn't agree. I inched closer to him, still sheltering my mother's book in my arms.

"You knew she'd hit you, " I stated softly. "If you gave me the bread..."

Peeta's eyes were trained on the floor as he shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

"They were only bruises," he muttered. "I knew they'd heal eventually."

"But why would you risk so much for me?"

Peeta let out a chuckle as he gazed at me with a tender look in his eyes. "Don't you get it?" he murmured softly. I could feel his fingertips gently brush my cheek, as he smiled and leaned in closer to me.

"You were always worth the risk," he breathed into my ear.

I shuddered, as I felt the sweetness of his breath tickle my skin. I closed my eyes, savoring the touch of his lips as they grazed softly against my ear. When I opened my eyes again they were met with eyes of the clearest blue, like the sky you could only see in the deepest parts of the woods.

I never noticed how beautiful his eyes were.

I pressed the book in my arms tighter to my chest, as if trying to mask the drumming feeling of my heart as it sped up in its pace.

We were standing so close I could hear his every breath as it rolled off his chest and filled the air, intermingling with mine. It comforted me to know that after how hard I had fought to keep him alive, he was still here with me, breathing. Before I knew it, I had had reached up and pressed my lips against his.

I missed the taste of his lips, so soft and warm against my own. We had kissed a thousand times before, but not like this. This kiss sent a tingling feeling down my spine. It was electrifying.

It was _too_ much.

I hastily tore myself away from him, my body reacting with alarm to the strange feeling of warmth suddenly blazing through me.

When we broke free I realized Peeta had a stunned expression on his face. His eyebrows furrowed over in confusion as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

"Was that real?" he asked hesitantly.

I didn't know what to say. A part of me didn't want it to be real.

Another part of me just wanted to kiss him again.

Freeing one hand, I grabbed his collar and pulled him down to me. I kissed him, this time deeper and longer. I lowered my book, letting him wrap his arm around me and press my body closer to his.

I felt as his other hand trailed up my neck, weaving into my braid. I ran my fingers through his hair and discovered how much easier it was to grab ahold of his blonde locks now that they had grown. The feeling delighted me.

I felt his hand move along my back, igniting a warm feeling inside of me that I didn't want to fight. Beneath the layer of clothes separating us, I could feel the hardness of his skin pressing against my own and wanted nothing more than to touch him. I still held onto the book with one hand, but my fingers loosened their grip in an effort to reach him. Suddenly the book slipped from my grasp, emitting a loud thud as it fell down to the floor.

The shattering noise broke us from our trance, and our lips parted immediately. We both panted softly, trying to regain our breath. Peeta still held me in his arms and it made me feel safe. I wanted to forget about everything and just remain there, cloaked in his embrace.

There were no cameras in the room, but for some reason, I _wanted_ the contact to last.

_No! I shouldn't feel this way about him!_

I stepped back quickly, in fear of the warm feeling rising inside of me, threatening to overwhelm me.

"I should get my book," I said softly, glancing down at the floor where it lay.

The book had snapped out of its binding, yellow pages spilling out onto the floor. I stooped down to collect them with Peeta following after me.

I gathered all the illustrations that were scattered on the floor, somewhat embarrassed at having them all lying there for him to see. I hadn't really shared this book with anyone aside from my family.

I hurried to gather all the severed pages and rejoin them with the book, but when I reached for it, Peeta intercepted. I looked up, and our eyes locked. I found myself lost in the softness of his crystal blue eyes.

_They really are beautiful._ _It's amazing that I haven't noticed them until now._

"I should put this away," I said fastening my grip around the book.

"I should too," Peeta repeated absently, still staring into my eyes.

I smiled, showing my amusement at his befuddled answer.

He must have realized his mistake because his face suddenly flushed.

"I mean, um," he laughed lightly. "Here," he said handing me the book.

He shot up to his feet and helped me up. When I got to my feet I noticed he was still holding my hand. An amused grin formed on my face.

"Peeta, I—"

"Oh, yeah," he said, instantly letting go of my hand. He flashed me a hesitant smile as he quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets.

_Was he always this nervous? He seemed so different in the games._

_Maybe this is how it would have been if we had met before the reaping._

"I'll be right back," I said, turning to the door.

"Yeah," Peeta answered, clearing his throat. "We should probably get going." He rocked back and forth on his heels anxiously. "Before my mom gets home."

I smiled.

_He's kind of cute when he's nervous._


	81. Jealousy

**A/N**

**Hey, sorry I left you guys for so long. I had a lot going on. But I'm back now! I'll be updating more often, so keep checking your email. I have a lot planned for this story and I hope you guys will like the direction I'll be taking it in the next few chapters. As always, enjoy! :)**

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><p>I left my mother's book on the dresser before stopping to gaze at my reflection in the mirror. My lips were red and full from kissing Peeta. It was something I had never noticed before.<p>

We had kissed so many times in the past, but it never felt like this. Every time I kissed him, I felt compelled to by the Capitol. I did it because I knew the cameras were watching us.

But this time, I knew there weren't any cameras in the room. And yet, I kissed him anyway.

I wasn't sure why I did it. I tried to convince myself that I had simply gotten used to kissing Peeta after so many months of pulling off our ruse.

_I just did it out of habit. That's all._

I let out a small sigh as I took in my disheveled appearance. My braid had loosened at the base of my neck where Peeta's fingers had been. Just thinking about his touch, reminded me of the warm feeling that coursed through me as his fingers ran down my back.

_No, I shouldn't think like this_, I reminded myself as I hastily undid my braid.

_It was just a kiss, like any other. _

_It didn't mean anything._

My fingers tore through my hair instinctively, pulling it into a tighter braid.

_There. That's better._

When I came downstairs, Peeta and I got dressed quickly before setting off towards his mother's house.

As soon as we stepped outside, I gave a disgruntled sigh.

Just thinking about that insufferable woman made me cringe.

"You okay?" Peeta asked noticing the change in my demeanor.

We got so caught up with everything that we had completely lost track of time.

"We aren't late, are we?"

Peeta said his parents' house would be empty for only a short period time. His family members often came home during their breaks, and I didn't want to risk running into his mother.

_I can't stand spending another afternoon with that awful woman._

Peeta glanced down at his watch. "No, my mother shouldn't be home for another couple hours. Besides," he added, shooting me a playful grin. "Even if we are a little late, I'd say it was worth it."

I glanced at him hesitantly. "Because of the kiss?"

Peeta promised that we'd be just friends, and I didn't want the kiss to change anything between us.

"No," Peeta replied. "Because I got to see what a talented artist you are."

I dropped my gaze and adjusted my gloves. I was hoping he would forget about that.

"But the kiss wasn't too bad either," he added with a casual shrug. "We should do it more often."

"We've kissed a thousand times before," I reminded him.

In the Games, in the Capitol, at our own wedding even.

"I liked this one better," Peeta smiled, catching my hand in his.

We usually held hands during our long walks together, in order to convince the public of our romance. But for some reason, on that afternoon it didn't feel as forced. Perhaps it was the frostiness of the weather, but I welcomed the extra warmth of his grasp.

We walked into town with our gloved hands clasped together, immersed in the light snowfall as it melted into our clothes and disappeared into the paved path before us.

I liked the serenity of walking through the snow with nothing but Peeta's hand to hold. I hoped no one would bother us today. Every time I went out with Peeta, I would hear people whispering about us. Sometimes they would come up to us and ask us questions and it made me feel uncomfortable.

I didn't have that problem when I went out on my own because most people knew to stay away from me. But Peeta was so popular. He knew almost everyone in town. And he was even more popular now that he was a Victor. Even people that he didn't know would approach us when we went out together. It's as if Peeta's presence would simply draw people towards him.

Luckily, when we reached the town square, it wasn't as busy as usual. It was a weekday, so most people were at school or work. But due to a recent rule implemented by the new peacekeepers in town, Merchants were allowed to leave school early in order to help in their parents' shops. It wasn't long before Peeta's friends caught sight of us.

"How's my favorite Victor doing?" the leader of the group greeted Peeta with a hearty pat on the back. "No offense to you, Katniss. You're still the prettier of the two."

"Hey, lay off my girl, Blake," Peeta joked with an affable smile. He slinked a protective arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him. He always did that when we were around people. I leaned into him and tried my best to smile and appear to be in love. Peeta's friends asked him to join the soccer team, but he joked that he wouldn't be much help with his bad leg.

"When are we going to see that big old house of yours?" another one of his friends asked. I tried my best not to grimace at the thought of inviting anyone over to our house. I felt so uncomfortable just surviving through this conversation, much less entertaining guests in our home.

"We're kind of busy at the moment, you know, being a married couple," Peeta rejoined with a smile, provoking his friends to make hooting noises and lewd jokes that made me blush.

I knew I had definitely seen these boys before. Peeta had introduced me to them on a number of previous occasions. But he had so many friends I had hard time keeping track of all of them.

That was partially why I had never realized how much Joseph's friendship meant to Peeta. He seemed to be constantly surrounded by so many people, that I never noticed how close he was with Joseph. According to Peeta, they were like brothers. I couldn't imagine losing someone so close to me—not the way Peeta did.

And yet, here he was, smiling brightly as he chatted and joked with his friends. He looked so strong and confident. There wasn't a trace of the misery and grief he showed yesterday. I couldn't believe I was looking at the same person that cried in my arms just the night before.

_How does he hide it so well? _

Whatever sorrow he felt, it was hidden well beneath a veneer of happiness.

Peeta continued chatting cheerily with his friends, about school and work, until finally they waved goodbye and parted ways with us.

Then Peeta and I hiked through town until we reached an area that was lined with rows of sophisticated looking two-story houses. As we walked down the road, we bumped into a chubby, blonde headed girl who I had met before.

Delly Cartwright.

She squealed when she saw us and hugged each one of us. She pulled me in so close that it made my chest hurt. She always acted like that, so I don't know why it bothered me so much when I saw her wrap her arms around Peeta.

_Get off him!_ A voice hissed inside my head.

I didn't know why I felt so possessive over him. It never bothered me when I saw him with girls before. Valerie had acted the same way with him just last week and I didn't even bat an eyelash. I don't know what changed since then.

_It was probably that stupid kiss._

I folded my arms across my chest, as I watched them talk to each other animatedly. Peeta seemed more excited to talk to her than to me. He didn't even seem nervous.

Of course, he had always talked to Delly, even before he met me. He talked to a lot of girls in class. He even talked to Seam girls sometimes. But he _never_ talked to me.

Which is why I found it so hard to believe that he had a crush on me.

_If he liked me, then why didn't he talk to me? _

I have to admit it bothered me at first when I noticed how Peeta would go out of his way to avoid me. I was sure he was trying to stay away from me because he didn't want to talk to the poor beggar girl that went through his trash. He was probably too embarrassed to talk to me after he gave me the bread.

But it was better that way. Peeta not talking to me only made it that much easier to ignore him.

And I did ignore him. I never cared what girls he was with, even after we were married. Ever since he came back as a Victor, girls in District 12 were practically throwing themselves at him.

Twill's words rang in my head as I thought about how girls would often flirt with Peeta, sometimes right in front of my eyes, as if they didn't acknowledge my marriage to him.

"_He's won hearts all over Panem, not just yours."_

I didn't mind the slew of girls trying to flirt with him. I hoped he would like one of them and forget about me. I wanted him to forget what happened in the Games and find someone else to shower with his love and affection. Someone who actually _wanted_ that kind of attention. They'd probably be a better match for him anyway.

But now as I watched him with Delly, I felt a sudden pang of jealousy.

I didn't really hear much of what Delly said, but Peeta was laughing. He seemed to respond to her a lot more freely than he did with Valerie.

I couldn't help but scowl as I watched them talk about events they had shared in the past and mutual friends I knew nothing about. Peeta seemed to have a lot more in common with her than he did with me.

I narrowed my eyes when I saw Delly run a hand over Peeta's arm as she gushed about how good it was to see him again. I wanted nothing more than to swat her hand off him.

Luckily, she left before I had a chance to do anything so drastic. I glared at her bubbly figure as she made her way down the road.

Peeta didn't seem to notice my reaction, and just acted as if everything was normal.

"Has she always been like that?"

"Like what?" Peeta asked with a perplexed expression on his face.

I paused for a moment as I searched for the right words. "So…friendly?"

_She was definitely flirting with him. But was that how she always acted around him? Or is it just now because he's a Victor?_

"Pretty much," Peeta nodded. "She's always been nice to everyone. Even people from the Seam."

_Okay, so he definitely misunderstood my question._

"No, I meant—has she always been this friendly with _you_."

"Well, yeah. I mean, we've been friends for as long as I can remember."

I gave him a wayward glance. "Just friends?"

There were no cameras along the way to his mother's house, so I was free to be a little more candid with him.

"Of course," Peeta insisted. "We've never been anything more than friends. Besides, she's dating Blake."

_And I'm sure she would leave him at the drop of a hat if it meant she could be with a Victor._

"Well, you really seem to like talking to her," I snapped a little too harshly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

I immediately regretted saying that. "Nothing." I shook my head half-heartedly before continuing. "It's just—you used to talk to her a lot in class."

_And everybody else. Everyone but me._

"You noticed that?"

"What?"

"That I used to talk to Delly a lot?"

The grin on his face told me that perhaps I had said too much. I shrugged my shoulders and briskly walked ahead of him. "Anyone would have noticed."

"Really?" Peeta called, catching up to me. "What, uh, what else did you notice about me?"

"That you ask too many questions," I quipped back, picking up my pace once again.

Peeta chuckled as he hastened his stride, trying to keep up with me.

When he caught up to me I saw he had an amused glint in his eye. "No, I meant, before you met me."

I noticed so much about him. None of which I was willing to admit. Luckily, his mother's house was coming into view. I walked the next few steps in silence until we reached the walkway in front of his parents' home. The front yard was filled with neatly groomed flower bushes.

"We're here," I said, gazing up at the beige shingled house. It looked exactly as it did the last time I visited, except this time all the lights were out. Only a single window on the top floor was lit. Peeta must have noticed because he groaned audibly as soon as we approached.

"My brother's here," he said in a disappointed voice.

I knew he was referring to his middle brother because he was the only one who still lived at home with his parents. I didn't know much about him, but I knew that he was a bully. I remember seeing him beat up Seam children at school. Gale was in his year and he would tell me all the horrible things he would do and the awful things he would say about people from the Seam.

"Will that be a problem?"

"No, no," Peeta assured me with a shake of his head. "He's just," he stopped and gave an exasperated sigh. "Embarrassing."

He caught my hand and guided me towards the house. "Come on."

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><p><strong>AN**

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	82. PART IV: Secrets

**A/N**

**I know I've made you guys wait a long time for the next chapter, but to make it up to you, it's extra long! ;)**

**Enjoy! :)**

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><p>It wasn't long before we found ourselves in the small room hidden underneath the Mellark's basement. Once again Peeta lit the small lantern that sat on his wooden desk, and I was overcome with a sense of awe as I watched the dim light shine over all the furniture that was fit snuggly into the room.<p>

_I can't believe Peeta built all this. _

I strolled into the room, feeling more at ease than I did the last time I came there, despite the fact that everything in the room had remained unchanged.

The small desk stood with a bundle of papers scattered across its surface, a collection of Peeta's drawings and writings. I squinted as I tried to read the words that were scrawled on the page, but couldn't make out Peeta's messy handwriting. Some books lay on the desktop while others were neatly placed on the bookshelf nearby. It was a tall structure that contained an assortment of books as well as other supplies that Peeta most likely used for his artwork. I brushed my fingers over the smooth surface of one of the shelves, admiring its texture.

The construction was flawless. If I didn't know better, I would say Peeta was a carpenter, not a baker.

"Where'd you learn how to build like this?" I asked, although I felt I already knew the answer. I turned and found that Peeta had been watching me. He averted his gaze quickly just like he did so many times at school when I'd catch him looking at me. He shoved his hands into his pockets and caught my eyes again before offering a reply.

"My uncle's a carpenter," he said with a shrug. "I'd help out sometimes."

He didn't mention Joseph's name but he didn't have to.

"Your cousin taught you?" I supplied gently, knowing he would understand which cousin I was referring to.

_The one who died in the Games. The one who killed his district partner in coldblooded murder._

Peeta nodded his head sullenly and looked down at the floor with a grim expression on his face. He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

"My uncle let us do the smaller jobs," he began. "Like the crib for my brother's baby." A nostalgic smile spread on his face. "But we wound up just fooling around most of the time. We'd build splats for the crib and then spend the rest of the afternoon pretending we were sword fighting."

At least now I knew how Joseph fought so well with a sword. _He had practice._

"We always dreamed we'd work together someday."

His face fell and he let out a despondent sigh, leaning his head against the concrete wall behind him. His eyes were heavy, weighed down by a sadness I never knew he possessed.

"But...it wouldn't have worked out anyway," he continued grimly. "I work at the bakery. That's where I belong."

My eyebrows stitched together as I considered what he said. "You can't choose where you work?"

"Of course not," Peeta answered simply. "You work at your family's shop. That's the way it's always been."

I never stopped to think about how Merchants chose their jobs, or how limited their options were. It seemed like such a luxury to work above ground in a family owned shop, rather than the mines, where your health and safety were always at risk. But perhaps merchants were disadvantaged in their own way, being confined to a role designated to them by their parents.

Although men from the Seam were required to work at the mines, they had the option to practice other professions as well. The mines paid so little that they had to have other methods of providing for their family in addition to their mining salary. Most men sold goods at the Hob, such as lumber or game that they brought in from the woods. Women also had a variety of jobs to choose from, such as Gale's mother who washed clothes for a living.

Merchants, on the other hand, passed down their jobs to their children and it never occurred to me that perhaps some of these children might be reluctant to take on the job given to them. Peeta was so good at baking that I never even questioned that that's what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

"Would you rather work as a carpenter?" I asked.

Peeta seemed to be taken aback by my question, but merely shrugged his shoulders in response. "Maybe it just seemed fun when Joey was around."

I knew Joseph was a close friend of his, but it still unnerved me to hear Peeta call him by such an endearing name. To me, he was just a murderer, who killed his district partner with coldhearted indifference. But Nadine had called him by the that name too.

"_Joey what happened to you?"_

Those were the words Nadine had uttered just days before he killed her. She called him by the same name that Peeta, his friend, had used. It was obvious that the two tributes must have known each other before they were reaped.

I glanced at Peeta apprehensively. I didn't know how to ask him about his friend, without instigating feelings of pain and sorrow. But I tried anyway, knowing that my curiosity wouldn't subside until I knew the truth.

"How did he know Nadine?" I asked softly, trying my best to be sensitive. I knew it was hard for him to talk about this.

Peeta bowed his head, as a pained expression took over his face. His eyebrows furrowed over and he gazed down at the floor with a melancholy look in his eyes, as if my words prompted memories that were too hard for him to bear. After a few moments of silence, he finally gave a reply.

"Her brothers used to work for his father," he began softly.

I didn't know her brothers, since they were older than me, but I knew them by face. I remembered seeing her oldest brother on stage at the ceremony honoring the families of those who perished in the mining accident. My father had died, along with around two hundred other miners. The eldest of each family received a medal. After that we were on our own.

Nadine's brothers weren't old enough to work in the mines, but they did what they could to survive. I remember seeing them at the Hob, selling wood and other goods from the forest. I overheard traders at the Hob talking about how they would sell their wood at the carpenter's shop as well. I was certain that was what Peeta was talking about when he said that Nadine's brothers had worked with Joseph's father.

"Selling wood?" I guessed.

"At first," Peeta answered. "But later, he gave them permanent jobs at the shop."

"He hired them?" I exclaimed in a bewildered voice, unable to hide my astonishment.

Working in the shops was a privilege strictly confined for merchants. The idea of people from the Seam working in merchant shops was completely unheard of.

"They needed the money," Peeta explained. "After their father died, they had no one to support them. Their mother couldn't afford to feed all of them on her own. So she went to the Sherwoods and asked them if her sons could work there—"

"How did Nadine's mother know the Sherwoods?"

"Nadine's father sold wood to their family for years," Peeta answered. "They would come over for dinner sometimes. That's how Nadine and Joey first got to know each other."

"So they knew each other for _years_ before the reaping," I concluded in astonishment.

It was very rare for families from the Seam and Town to be on such good terms with each other.

Peeta nodded his head. "Their families knew each other for a long time. So of course, when Nadine's mother came to my uncle asking him for help, he agreed and hired her sons.

"Nadine would come by sometimes," Peeta reminisced with a wistful smile on his face. "She'd try to make herself useful and do odd jobs around the shop. But I think she just came there so she can spend time with Joey. They were good friends. They had been for years."

"It seemed like they were _more_ than just friends."

Peeta smiled to himself softly. "She always did have a crush on him. He didn't feel the same way, but he still cared about her," he concluded, as a gloomy look took over his face.

_I could tell that Joseph cared about Nadine by the way that he protected her so vigilantly. But if that was true, then why did he kill her?_

The question still remained, and Peeta seemed to be just as troubled by it as I was. His eyes remained glued to the floor as if he couldn't bear to let me see just how much it hurt him to think about this. I couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been for Peeta to watch his friend turn into such a ruthless monster, one who was willing to kill his district partner so cruelly, even when she had been his friend for so long.

"It was the lizards," I said, offering an explanation. "He said so himself. They were making him see things. They took control of him."

"Maybe," Peeta muttered in reply. His eyebrows furrowed over in discontent. "Can we not talk about this anymore?"

I could tell by the tormented look on his face that it pained him to go on about this, so I didn't push the subject any further. Instead I gazed around the room, letting my eyes fall on a small wooden easel that stood on the far end of the room. It's canvas was covered by a simple fabric sheath, as if to hide whatever was underneath it. I had never seen Peeta's paintings before. I was never interested in what he painted or even what he did with his spare time. But now that I got to know him a bit better, I suddenly felt curious.

"What have you been painting?" I asked.

Peeta looked up at me with surprise. To my gratification, his brooding face relaxed a little, but he still looked somewhat uncomfortable. "You don't want to see it," he responded sheepishly. "It's pretty bad. I mostly just paint my nightmares."

"You have nightmares?"

Peeta nodded his head. "I've had them since I was little."

"You don't scream or thrash around like I do," I remarked somewhat enviously.

"I don't anymore, but...I used to," Peeta confided. "I had really bad nightmares growing up. Especially when one of my cousins or friends got reaped. I couldn't deal with it. Not the way my brothers could. I would always wake up in the middle of the night, shaking and screaming. I shared a room with my brother and I would keep him up all night. He said that he couldn't sleep because of me. After that, I knew I had to do something about it. So I tried painting my nightmares. I thought that if I got it all out on paper, the dreams wouldn't haunt me anymore."

"Did it work?"

"For the most part," Peeta replied. "Although, apparently, I still talk in my sleep. My brother always makes fun of me for that."

I thought about the time we spent sleeping together on the Victory Train. "I don't remember you talking in your sleep."

"I tried to let you fall asleep first," he admitted. "Just in case," he smiled before continuing in a softer tone.

"But I don't even remember getting nightmares when I was with you," he murmured with a nostalgic glint in his eye. "Maybe it's because of how we protected each other in the arena but whenever I'm around you, I feel like...nothing can hurt me."

He blushed and shook his head resentfully, as if he were embarrassed. "I know," he laughed. "It's stupid."

"No," I assured. "I feel the same way. Sometimes," I added hastily.

I cast my gaze downward, afraid that my eyes would betray my thoughts. That I couldn't have a peaceful night's sleep without him holding me. That every night since the Victory Tour, I had been too afraid to shut my eyes, because I knew the nightmares would follow. That sometimes I'd lay awake in my bed, waiting for him to leave early in the morning because I didn't want him to hear my screams.

"You can try it too," Peeta offered.

"What?" I mumbled, looking up at him.

"Painting," Peeta said. "To help you get the nightmares out of your head."

I shook my head meekly. "I can't paint."

"Now I know you're lying," Peeta grinned teasingly. "Do you remember that art class we had in school? With Ms. Marigold?"

I nodded. The district couldn't afford to offer art classes every year, but students were allowed to take one art class in the year before their first reaping. I was eleven then. I hadn't even realized that Peeta was in my class.

I always painted the woods. I loved going there with my father so much that it was all I ever thought about when I wasn't there. Every time we had to paint in art class I'd choose to replicate the forest, as if I could capture all our memories on the blank canvas and live in them forever.

"I remember you always used green for your canvas," Peeta reminisced with a smile on his face. "You'd paint the forest, I think. You'd paint so many trees and animals that I had never seen before."

"How do you remember that?"

"I liked your paintings," Peeta answered with a shrug. "I'd never seen anything like it before. It looked like...paradise."

"It was," I whispered. "My father would take me there on the weekends. It was the only thing I'd look forward to all week."

I paused for a moment catching myself. I had never told anyone about that before. Going into the woods was illegal, so I could never speak about it openly.

"Does it really look like that?" Peeta asked.

I nodded my head. "But its so vast. It's hard to get it all down on paper."

"You should try painting again," Peeta suggested. "I think you'd be really good at it."

Painting was the only class I enjoyed at school. As much as I wanted to, I could never afford to paint outside of school. And after my father died, I didn't have time to focus on trivial hobbies like that.

"I'm not an artist," I insisted with a shake of my head.

_I'm a hunter. That's what I've always been._

"Those flower drawings I saw aren't too bad," Peeta replied. "In fact, they're kind of amazing."

Compiling that book had been an activity I shared with my mother. It was a craft she had passed down to me from her merchant days. Ever since I lost her to depression, I didn't have the desire to complete it on my own. I didn't want anything to do with my mother or her merchant family. My father would have never abandoned me the way she did. That's how I knew I'd rather be a hunter like my father than adopt my mother's merchant ways. At the end of the day, it was my father's ability that helped me put food on the table.

"I don't have time for that anymore," I replied, turning towards his canvas. "What else have you been working on?"

"I've been preparing something for the Talent Show," Peeta answered. "But it's supposed to be a surprise."

"I'm your wife," I teased. "You're not supposed to keep surprises from me."

Peeta laughed. "I would show you, but its not finished yet."

"You've gotten along a lot farther than I have. I haven't even picked my talent yet."

"Why don't you try archery?"

I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. "I don't really feel like doing anything for the Talent Show."

I didn't want to do anything for the Capitol. Not after everything they put us through.

Peeta nodded his head as if he understood. "Well, you'll have to make up something to tell Haymitch tonight."

I groaned softly as I remembered that we had agreed to meet Haymitch later that evening to discuss what we would be doing for the Talent Show. I suddenly felt guilty that I hadn't even begun thinking about what my talent would be.

"I guess I'll just tell him that I'll use Cinna's designs for my talent."

_I have enough of them in my room. I might as well use them for something._

I brushed my fingers leisurely against the books that were stacked neatly on the shelf beside me. There was only one shelf that held a small collection of books, and the rest of the shelves stored a variety of painting supplies.

I wondered if Peeta knew how lucky he was to have such tools, to be able to hone his talents, and to afford such an expensive hobby. It was probably something his parents had paid for, just like my mother's parents had paid for her art lessons, but for us in the Seam it was just a luxury we could never afford. I continued browsing over all the paint tools, wondering how it would be to grow up using them. I missed my opportunity at having a privileged childhood, but Prim still had a chance. I could buy her painting tools if she wanted me to. As I pondered over this, something caught my eye.

On one of the lower shelves, amidst a series of paint cans, hidden in their shadows, stood a small wooden figurine. I reached in and pulled it out for a closer look. I noticed it was a bird, carved entirely out of wood. The detail was remarkable.

"Is this a mockingjay?" I asked Peeta.

He stepped closer to me, gazing down at the figurine. "It's a mockingbird, actually."

The ancestor of the mockingjay. What the bird was called before it was bred with the Capitol's chemically produced Jabber Jays.

"We haven't seen those in years," I muttered in awe.

Not in Twelve.

I spent all my time in the woods, and even I rarely saw them.

"They are very rare. That's why I was so surprised when I saw one sitting on my window. It was one of those mornings when I just didn't want to get out of bed. Everything seemed so pointless. I knew that if I opened my eyes, I'd only see pain and misery. None of which I could change. So I went back to bed, wishing it would all be over when I woke up."

That's how I felt in the first few months after my father had died. I allowed myself to believe that if I fell asleep, when I'd wake up everything would go back to the way it used to be. My father would be there, and my mother would be happy again. The mining accident and my father's death would all be just a dream.

"When I finally got out of bed, the sun had already began to set," Peeta continued. "And that's when I saw it. It was sitting on my windowsill. I wasn't really sure what it was because I'd never seen anything like it before. So I just watched it as it sat there. Then, before I knew it, it flew off into the sunset. At first, I wondered where it went. But then I realized…it was free. It could go anywhere it wanted. And somehow that made me feel better."

I turned the bird over in my hands, admiring its fine detail. "It's beautiful," I said, carefully putting the wooden figurine back on the shelf.

I looked up to meet Peeta's warm blue eyes and found him staring at me shyly.

"You know, I haven't brought anyone down to this room before," he said, combing a hand through his hair. "I've never shared any of this with anyone."

We stood only inches apart, so I could feel his warm breath as it brushed against my skin. He cupped my face in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb across my cheek. "But I'm glad I shared it with you," he whispered. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine, kissing me softly.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Happy New Year! :)**


	83. Business Proposal

**Peeta's POV**

I felt a spark ignite and flow through my body as soon as my lips touched hers. The taste of her lips was intoxicating. I didn't even want to part for air. I felt like I needed her kisses more than I needed air to breathe. It was a dream come true to kiss her like this, with no cameras watching us. I only pulled back to prove that it was real. I opened my eyes and smiled down at her, taking in the vision of beauty before me. I brushed my fingers over her soft, olive-skinned cheekbones, admiring the beauty marks that were speckled across her face, and found myself getting lost in her twinkling grey eyes.

I still couldn't believe she was mine.

I leaned in to kiss her again, but found her hands pressed firmly against my chest, pushing me away.

"What's wrong?" I asked, surprised by her sudden change in mood. I heard my heart pounding wildly in my chest as a sense of panic came over me.

_What did I do wrong? _I searched her eyes adamantly looking for answers. _We were getting along so well._

I saw a hesitant look cross her face, as if she were battling with some internal struggle, before finally opening her mouth to speak.

"I can't keep doing this," she breathed with a tragic note in her voice. She locked her cloudy grey eyes on me. "I'm sorry." She dropped her gaze, glancing at the floor with a guilty look in her eyes.

_Of course she must feel guilty for kissing me, when she belongs to someone else._

I still wasn't sure what her relationship was with Gale. I wanted to ask her about it, here in this secluded room, where no one could hear us. But for some reason my mouth couldn't form the words. Perhaps I was too scared of what the answer might be. So instead, I just stared at her stupidly.

_Why does she always get the best of me?_

"We promised we'd just be friends, remember?" she murmured softly.

"Yeah, sure," I smiled abruptly in an attempt to hide my nervousness. "I can do that," I assured with a quick nod of my head, despite the incessant yearning of my heart to be so much more to her.

_She was never mine. What was I thinking? How could I be so stupid?_

I stepped away and rubbed my temple out of shame and confusion.

_If she wanted to be just friends then why did she kiss me?_

I scratched my head as I tried to figure her out, but she seemed to bend under my scrutiny and I felt my own cheeks redden from embarrassment.

"We should get out of here," I proposed, bolting towards the stairs. Katniss extinguished the light and followed after me. We moved through the basement in quiet unison, taking swift, purposeful strides. When we got to the living room, I saw my brother approaching us.

_Oh no. I really do not need this right now._

I knew from the moment that he suggested I bring Katniss over that this would happen. He never did anything nice without having an ulterior motive guiding his actions.

My brother came to a halt directly in front of us, blocking our path to the entrance.

"Well," he began in a derisive tone. "If it isn't the Girl on Fire, and her dashing sidekick." He flashed a mocking smirk at me.

I thought my brother's teasing would stop after I got back from the games. But, boy was I wrong. Ever since I came back, he made it a point to make as many jokes about my time in the arena as he could.

"Hi Percy," I replied, smiling despite myself. "How are you?"

"I'm good now that _you're_ here," he replied in a tone that was much more enthusiastic than I was used to. "I need you to sign something," he demanded, shoving a large packet of papers in front of us, with a lengthy text and the national emblem of Panem inscribed on its front page. Katniss eyed the bundle of papers with a confused expression on her face. She threw a furtive glance at me as if asking what was going on. I gave her a reassuring look before setting my gaze on my brother.

"We're not doing this right now, Perce," I stated.

"Yeah, we are," he insisted dismissively. He took out a pen from his pocket and held it out for Katniss to use but she only glanced at him with distrustful look on her face.

I stepped forward, taking ahold of his arm. "Percy, can I talk to you for a minute?" I urged, ushering him towards the kitchen. I knew this could potentially blow up into a big argument and I didn't want Katniss to be there when it happened. I didn't want her to see how messed up my family _really_ was.

When we got to the kitchen, Percy yanked his arm free from my grasp and came to a halt in front of me. "What?" he spat out in an irritated manner.

I hesitated for a moment, as I contemplated the best way to explain the situation to him without risking the chance of him causing a scene. "I haven't told her about it yet," I finally replied in a hushed tone.

My brother stared at me incredulously and his eyebrows furrowed over sharply to show his disapproval. "Why not?" he bellowed angrily.

"Because she'll think it's a stupid idea," I whispered, leaning over and trying to be as quiet as possible.

"I don't care!" he yelled furiously, the anger steadily growing in his voice. "You were supposed to tell her about this weeks ago. I'm not letting you leave, until _this_ is signed," he commanded waving the papers in front of me.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "We're not signing anything," I maintained firmly. "I told you, we need time to talk it over before making any decisions."

"What decisions?" he cried out in disbelief. "All you have to do is sign a stupid sheet of paper! I already did all the hard work for you!" he hissed, jabbing a stubby finger at my chest. I flicked it off with annoyance as I narrowed my eyes directly on his green, obstinate ones, and leaned in closer until our noses were barely touching.

"Last time I checked, _you_ weren't the one who came back as a Victor," I hissed back. "Now I don't know if you remember, but that's kind of a big part of the plan."

"Oh, come on," Percy retorted, rolling his eyes. "You wouldn't have gotten out if your _girlfriend_ didn't drag you out by your gym shorts. Unlike _you_, I've been working for months to make this happen!"

"Oh yeah, Perce," I chuckled sarcastically as I stepped away from him. "Sleeping with a bunch of Capitol women is _really_ hard work."

"I got you sponsors!" he seethed. He lowered his voice as he continued, becoming conscious of the listening devices that were undoubtedly planted onto the walls surrounding us. "If we're going to do this thing, we're going to need someone to pay for it!" He gazed at me with such a fierce look of determination in his dark green eyes that I knew he wanted this more than he wanted anything else in the world. And he was willing to do anything to make it happen.

I let out a sigh as I conceded and gave a response I knew I would come to regret. "Alright, I'll talk to her about it tonight."

A smug grin crossed his face, as he saw himself getting closer to accomplishing a dream he had held for so long. "Good, and get Haymitch in on it too," he urged.

"Oh, no," I shook my head profusely. "I am _not_ talking to him about this."

"Why not?" My brother argued back. "He's your mentor! He'll _listen_ to you."

"It's your dream, not mine," I said steadfastly. "If you want this to happen, its up to _you_ to convince him."

My brother groaned as he rolled his head back in disappointment. "But he hates me," he whispered in a hushed voice. "You _know_ what happened last time," he said referring to his last incident with Haymitch. About four years ago, Percy had spotted Haymitch at the bar and approached him. Whatever he said must have angered the old Victor, because Percy came home with a black eye that night.

"Yeah, it was pretty funny," I responded with a laugh.

My brother glared at me. "Why can't _you_ just do it?" he snapped in an irritated tone.

I shook my head firmly. "I don't even like the idea. I'm not going to pitch it to Haymitch."

"Fine," my brother spat out heatedly. "I'll just do it myself."

"Okay. Just make sure it turns out better than it did last time," I warned with a smile.

"Shut up! At least I didn't _cry_ when I got reaped," he shot back as he turned at his heel.

I grinned to myself and shook my head at my brother, as I walked back to the living room where Katniss was waiting for me.

"What was that all about?" she asked with a confused expression on her face.

"I'll explain on the way. Come on. We don't want to be late for Haymitch's house. He might be naked by the time we get there."

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><p><strong>AN**

**I haven't updated in a long time because I've been very busy. If you want me to update sooner, please don't tell me to update! Instead, leave me a constructive review of my story, and perhaps that might inspire me to write more frequently! ;)**


	84. Breaking the Rules

**A/N**

**Hey, so this is just a revised version of the chapter I previously put up. The beginning of the chapter might sound the same, but the ending is completely different. I tried to make it more fluffier, and also make Katniss less bitchy because I saw that was a recurrent complaint in the reviews section. So thanks for all the comments! Keep them coming! :)**

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><p><strong>Katniss' POV<strong>

Strong gusts of wind whipped at my face as I traveled through the snow-covered streets with Peeta. The snowstorm had picked up speed by the time we had left his parents' home. Flakes of snow pelted down at us at an unrelenting pace, and I tugged my coat closer for warmth.

"What did your brother want?" I asked Peeta finally.

A cloud of cold air escaped his lips as he breathed a heavy sigh and hesitated for a moment. "My brother, well…he wants to start a training center."

"What?" I cried in disbelief. "You mean like what the Careers have?"

Peeta nodded grimly.

I didn't know much about Peeta's brother, but from the little that I did know, it seemed to make sense that Peeta's brother would want to start a school that would train children for the Games. After all, he was the reigning champion of the District's annual wrestling competition. He probably spent his whole life fighting. And I knew from all the times I saw him and his gang picking on Seam children at school that he didn't have a problem being cruel to those smaller than him.

But it astonished me to think that _Peeta_ would agree to such an idea. That perhaps Peeta had been planning this all along, behind my back.

"And you support this?" I demanded, unable to mask the accusatory note in my voice.

"No!" Peeta countered. "I told him I didn't like the idea."

"Then what does he want from us?"

"Well," Peeta began. "In order to start a training center, he has to get at least two Victors to support it. That way he'll have someone to train the children once it's opened."

"So he'll try to get Haymitch to sign off on it too?" I guessed.

"Yeah," Peeta nodded. "But the chances of that happening are pretty slim."

"How do you know?" I asked."What if he likes the idea?"

"No," Peeta laughed. "Haymitch _hates_ my brother. He won't like any idea he brings to him."

"Why does he hate him?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"It's a long story," Peeta replied with a shrug. "All I can say is that my brother is kind of a jerk, so most people hate him."

It was clear that Peeta's brother was hated among the people of the Seam. But he seemed pretty popular among the merchant crowd. It was good to know Peeta felt the same way about him as I did. It meant that Peeta wouldn't support his ridiculous idea to turn District 12 into a Career district; And as long as I didn't sign off on it, it wouldn't matter whether Haymitch supported the idea or not. There was no way his brother could start a training center without our support. So we had nothing to worry about.

I instantly breathed a sigh of relief and continued trekking through the snow with a more peaceful state of mind. The storm resumed, with frosty pellets falling down until the blankets of snow that covered the streets were half way up to our knees. Peeta rubbed his gloved hands together for warmth. He caught me looking at him and before I knew it, he took ahold of my hand, and pulled me to a sudden halt. I shot him a confused look, but he only smiled in return. He took both of my gloved hands, cradling them tenderly in his. In slow, circular motions, he began rubbing his thumbs over my hands, kneading my fingers with his, until I could feel a surge of heat pulse through my body. He brought my hands up to his lips and breathed, filling me with such a sudden sense of warmth that, for a moment, I almost forgot the gusts of wind that were rushing past us. He smiled at me, and I couldn't help but get lost in his blue eyes. I felt my heart quicken in its pace as I gazed into them, falling deeper into those enchanting pools of blue.

_Why are you staring at him? _I silently scolded myself. _Stop it!_

Somehow I was able to break myself free from my trance. I ripped my hands from his and mumbled something about picking up my sister from school before hurrying off, and leaving Peeta with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

_I hope he understands that we're just friends. We can't be anything more than that._

I felt guilty for pushing him away, but I knew I couldn't offer him anything more than friendship. I hated the way I felt when I saw him with Delly. I never wanted to feel like that again. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had never felt jealous like that before. I had a long-standing platonic relationship with Gale. I was sure I could develop a similar relationship with Peeta.

When I brought Prim home from school, I left her with my mother, to help with her healing duties. Then I went to Haymitch's house, where Peeta greeted me at the front door. He led me down to the basement where he said they had moved the meeting for _convenience_ purposes. He guided me past the wine cabinets, into a smaller room with a set of lavish, dark velvet couches. Haymitch lay on one of them with his legs propped up on an armrest. A small flask rested on his chest, heaving with every shallow breath he took. He had one hand placed protectively over his eyes, shielding them from the light that I was sure Peeta had forced him to turn on.

"You look comfortable," I remarked as I entered the room.

Haymitch let out a disgruntled groan at the sound of my voice. He didn't seem too eager to see me. Still, he managed to tear himself up from the couch and reluctantly pull into a reclined sitting position.

"Look who finally showed up," he grumbled in response, as Peeta and I took a seat on the couch opposite him. "The boy's already told me about his plans for the show," he began, with a quick nod towards Peeta. "So what's your talent going to be?" he concluded with a rather disinterested look on his face.

I hesitated for a moment, before explaining my idea to use Cinna's designs as my talent. To my surprise, Haymitch let out a patronizing laugh. "You? Designing clothes?" he roared, slapping his knee with amusement. "It was hard enough to get you into them!"

I glared at him feeling somewhat offended by his unfavorable reaction to my idea. I folded my arms across my chest to express my discontent.

"Maybe he's right," Peeta agreed, much to my surprise. "You don't really seem to like clothes too much."

"How do _you_ know what I like?" I snapped, perhaps a bit harshly, but only because I expected him to side with _me_, not with Haymitch.

"Designing clothes just seems kind of shallow," Peeta explained. "Anyone can tell you're not really like that."

"Well, it's all I've got," I muttered in defeat. I tried searching my head for alternative ideas, but couldn't come up with any.

"You've got plenty of talents," Peeta insisted. "You can sing really well. Maybe you can do that for the Talent Show?"

"I am _not_ going to sing for the Capitol," I stated resolutely, and the empathetic nod from Peeta showed me that he understood.

"I suggest you use archery as your talent," Haymitch chimed in. "You're going to have to explain how you got so good at it anyway."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The other districts have been asking how you learned to use a bow and arrow so well," he explained. By the stony look on his face, I could tell he was being serious. "President Snow might know that you've been hunting, but the other districts don't. As far as they know, you've had an unfair advantage in the Games—"

"Unfair advantage?" I cried out, unable to contain my outrage. "But the Careers had just as much of an advantage as I did, if not _more_!"

"It doesn't matter," Haymitch replied dismissively. "They're Careers. They're allowed to train. We're not. If you say you did, that could be enough to get you disqualified."

_Disqualified. _My mind reeled just at the sound of the word. I gazed down at the floor as it seemed to rush before me._ What did that mean for me? Would my Victor's crown be taken away? What did that mean for my family? _I tried my best not to panic and maintain my breathing at a normal pace, but I could still feel my fingers begin to tremble out of fear. I dug my nails into the velvet-cushioned seat beneath me, in an effort to steady myself, and tried my best to regain my composure.

"What are we going to do?" I heard Peeta voice my concern. I glanced over at him and noticed he was wringing his hands nervously. He seemed almost as worried as I was.

"We'll just have to explain that it's a traditional pastime here in Twelve," Haymitch replied before continuing to explain. "We'll show them that it's only a form of competitive showmanship. That way, they won't ask anymore questions."

"Why do they care?" I sputtered, my body still trembling out of a combination of anger and fear.

"The other districts aren't used to us winning," Haymitch explained. "It's been twenty-some years since the last time that's happened. They've gotten comfortable always being on top, and they don't want anyone stealing their spotlight."

"But they were so welcoming of us when we visited them," I muttered helplessly, referencing the warm welcome we received from each District on the Victory Tour.

_And now they want to disqualify me._

"That's how they're supposed to act in front of the cameras. But there's a whole lot going on behind the scenes that you two don't know about," Haymitch supplied stealthily. "And it's better for your own sakes that it stay that way."

I hesitated for a moment before finally giving in. "Alright, I'll make archery my talent," I conceded. "Just tell me what I have to do."

"Effie will fill you in with the details when she gets here," the old mentor stated nonchalantly. "She'll also be teaching you two how to dance," he added with a noticeable spike in his voice, as he motioned towards the two of us with his flask. "There's a lot of that involved at this thing," he concluded with a chuckle. "And you won't be able to get out of it the way you did at your wedding."

Effie insisted that we dance for our wedding, but I felt awkward dancing with Peeta, especially in front of so many people. I hadn't danced at all since my father died. Peeta seemed to understand, so he talked to Effie about it and eventually convinced her to leave dancing off the wedding program. I never even got to ask Peeta how he felt about it.

But now as Haymitch talked about how every Victor was required to dance at the Talent Show, I saw Peeta's face turn to a bright shade of red. I scowled at Haymitch; I didn't appreciate how he was making fun of our marriage.

"Will Effie be teaching _you_ how to dance too?" I prodded mockingly.

Haymitch snorted. "I'm an old, washed up drunk. No one wants to dance with me."

"How about a talent?" Peeta asked, joining in. "If you're a Victor, you'll be expected to perform."

"The last time the Capitol put me on a stage, they regretted it," Haymitch remarked with a haughty laugh. "They've learned better than to leave an old drunkard on stage in front of a live audience. They _know_ how I am. Now, they just send me an invitation and hope I show up."

As if to prove his point, Haymitch lifted his flask to his lips and guzzled down its contents. Peeta and I shared a look and decided to leave after that.

When we came home we set up for dinner. We ate in silence for the most part. I didn't feel like making conversation after what I learned at Haymitch's house.

_The other districts are plotting against me. They want me disqualified. _

I could barely digest any food, so I just pushed it around on my plate. Peeta made some jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, but I just smiled meekly in response. My mind was elsewhere.

"What are you thinking about?" Peeta asked.

"Nothing," I replied instinctively. Peeta must have not bought my answer, because he looked at me expectantly, awaiting a truthful reply.

"We're not going to be able to start a training center," I supplied hastily. "Haymitch said only Career districts can do that. Your brother will be very disappointed."

Peeta chuckled. "As much as I _wish_ I could tell him that, there's actually a way that a district like ours _can_ become a Career district. As long as you have two living Victors supporting the training center, you can open one. That's how District Four started sending Careers into the Games. Finnick O'Dair opened the first training center there after he won."

"How do you know all of that?" I said regarding him suspiciously.

"I actually paid attention in history class, Katniss," he responded, flashing me a cheeky grin, before returning his gaze to his plate and finishing up what remained on it.

I looked down at the mashed potatoes and small carving of meat that still sat untouched on my plate, and my stomach turned. "Has anyone ever been disqualified from the Games?"

Peeta stopped chewing on his food and gulped it down haphazardly, before turning to me with a concerned look in his eyes. "Some were," he began tentatively. "But that was a _long_ time ago."

"What do you think the Capitol did to them?"

"I'm not sure," Peeta admitted sullenly.

_Did they execute them? Did they turn them into avoxes?_

"But you shouldn't worry about it," Peeta added in a reassuring voice. "They haven't disqualified anyone in _years_."

"Maybe this year they will," I contemplated in a nervous whisper. I rose up hastily from my seat, not wanting Peeta to notice the huge surge of fear that had suddenly washed over me. I dumped my food in the trash and rushed over to the sink to rinse my plate. I turned on the faucet full blast, wishing for the noise to drown out my troubled thoughts.

Peeta came up behind me, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked up and was met with his clear blue eyes. "There's no reason for them to disqualify _anyone_ this year," he enunciated clear enough for me to understand, but cryptic enough so the cameras won't. "The other districts are just jealous because we won. But we'll clear things up at the Talent Show," he promised. "And they'll have no reason to doubt any of us," he assured as he drew me closer to him and brought his head down to meet mine.

"But—what if I don't convince them," I proposed under my breath, sure that the loud clamor of running water would be enough to drown out my voice from the cameras that were undoubtedly listening to us.

"Hey," he began softly as he ran a finger down my cheek, gently coaxing me. "It's just archery," he said, tucking a hair behind my ear. "You'll do great. You'll wow the audience and everyone will fall in love with you, just like they did the first time."

His kind words brought a smile to my face. The warmth of his smile and the steadiness of his blue eyes seemed to be enough to comfort me and dissolve all of my fears. Peeta broke his gaze first and I quickly flitted my gaze down, almost ashamed of being the last one to do so. I heard Peeta turn off the faucet and walk over to the other side of the kitchen. I looked up and saw Peeta open a cabinet door and fish out a bottle of red wine. He popped open the lid and poured two glasses of wine.

"Let's make a toast," he proposed handing me a glass. "To the Talent Show." He tossed back the drink and so did I. I didn't drink much, but this time I needed it. Just thinking about the Talent Show made me nervous. I hated performing in front of people, and now my life was on the line too. I was definitely not looking forward to the Talent Show.

"Who knows, it might actually be fun," Peeta proposed with a shrug.

"Spending a night with people from the Capitol?" I scoffed. "I doubt it."

"Haven't you seen the Talent Shows from the years before?" he asked, leaning with his back against the counter as he took a sip of wine.

I shook my head in response. I usually didn't tune into the viewings that weren't mandatory.

"You know, they're actually not so bad," Peeta insisted. "We can catch some of the old ones on TV."

I groaned. "You're not talking about watching old Talent Show reruns?"

"Why not? At least we'll know what to expect."

"Alright," I conceded. "But I think I might need all of this," I said, grabbing the bottle of wine as I followed him into the living room.

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><p><strong>AN**

**Up next is drunk Katniss! :]**

**Leave comments and reviews please! :D**


	85. Drinking Buddies

**Peeta's POV**

"The TV's not going to hurt you, Katniss," I said, as I sat down beside her on our living room couch. She glowered at the screen across from us with a menacing look in her eyes as it emitted images of previous talent shows. In her hands she cradled a newly filled glass of wine that she took leisurely sips from as the television program went on.

Katniss smirked at my remark, but didn't miss a beat. "It was sent here from the Capitol, so who knows? Maybe it will."

I chuckled and was impressed by her ability to keep a sense of humor in all this. Haymitch had just told us that the other districts were plotting to disqualify Katniss' from being a Victor on the basis that she had illegal archery training prior to the Games. Only Career districts were allowed to train. That meant _we_ weren't.

"I can't believe you've never watched one of these!" I said referring to the Talent Shows that I had grown up watching as a child. "Everybody in town loved talking about them when they'd come on."

I remembered how every year everyone would rush into class eager to talk about the previous night's show with their friends, discussing who scored best, and who wore the best costumes.

"It's not mandatory. What's the point?" She muttered taking another sip from her glass.

I guess folks in the seam had a different view on things.

"I liked watching it with my family, " I replied. "It was nice to get together outside of the bakery every once in a while."

For once, my brothers and I would stop fighting. My parents would stop arguing. We actually seemed like a normal family.

"I watched it with Prim sometimes," Katniss confided, taking me by surprise. She hardly ever talked about her sister, let alone their life together before the reaping.

"She loved watching the Victor's performances and all their pretty dresses," she reminisced as a small smile formed on her face. "I was never really into it though. I watched it for her but, to be honest, watching a bunch of Capitol people go on about other people's clothes for an hour isn't exactly my idea of fun."

"Those are some unexpected words coming from a self-proclaimed designer," I teased.

"I used to sew my clothes and Prim's all the time, for your information," she rebutted playfully.

"I'm sure you'd give Cinna a run for his money," I retorted, before adding, "Maybe next time you can put our outfits together."

"You won't need one," she replied with a laugh.

"Of course I will, I'll need something to match whatever you're wearing!"

"You seem pretty comfortable wearing nothing at all."

"What are you talking about?" I said, trying to play innocent.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" she shot back, giving me a pointed look. I didn't give in, so she went on to give her best impression of me. "_I don't mind if you watch!_"

I tried my best to keep a straight face to hide my embarrassment, but her imitation was so adorable, it was hard to do.

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?"

She giggled and shook her head coyly.

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her. But I knew I couldn't. Not after being turned down once already.

She told me she had just wanted to be friends. But then why did she kiss me earlier that day?

I hastily gulped down the rest of the wine that was left in my glass, trying to drown out all of the feelings of pain and rejection, but I couldn't seem to banish the thoughts from my mind.

_Think. What were we doing when she kissed me? We were in the den, talking, when she mentioned something about…bread? _

My mind was a bit fuzzy from the Capitol wine, which was much stronger than what I was used to.

But, suddenly, everything seemed to click.

_Of course! She kissed me because she thought she owed me for the bread! How could I be so stupid?_

I shook my head disparagingly at my own unwitting foolishness.

"Let's make a toast!" Katniss' voice rang out in a drunken slur. She lifted the nearly empty bottle of wine into the air and mumbled something that I didn't understand. When I asked her to repeat the phrase, she merely started in a fit of laughter and crashed into me.

"Alright," I said taking the bottle away from her. "We don't need anymore town drunks in this district. One is enough."

"Haymitch will be so lonely," she slurred in reply, eliciting a laugh from me.

She had a wonderful sense of humor. Why didn't she show it to my friends when they were around?

"Peeta, hold me," she said as she snuggled closer to me. That was not a request I was about to deny. "I want to make all your nightmares go away," she whispered into the crook of my neck, as she nestled her head there and wrapped her arms around me.

"You don't have to," I said, pulling away, despite myself. I had coped with my nightmares on my own for a long time. I could do so now, too.

"Let me get you a blanket." I stood up to get one, but before I could turn away, I felt her arms cling to me tightly.

"No, please don't go!" I noticed the frightened look in her eyes. "If you do, the mutts will get me!"

Mutts? I thought she didn't have nightmares anymore. At least that's the way she made it seem.

"I can't sleep without you, Peeta," she admitted, her watery grey eyes looking up at me earnestly.

"Please…stay."

I could only utter one word in reply.

"Always."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**I hope you enjoyed it and please leave comments & reviews! :D**


	86. Hangover

**Katniss' POV**

The next morning I woke up with a resounding headache, and absolutely no recollection of the night before. I was surprised to find myself asleep on the couch, with Peeta beside me, our legs intertwined. I had no idea how we got there, but glancing at the empty wine bottle by the leg of the couch, I got a hunch.

I groaned as I rose from my sleep, knowing that the incessant pounding in my head and the queasy feeling in my belly wouldn't go away on its own. I drew together several ingredients I remembered my mother would use whenever drunken men from the Seam would saunter into her home looking for a remedy for their hangovers before an early morning shift at the mines.

As I mixed all the ingredients, I watched Peeta who was still fast asleep on the couch. He was a deep sleeper. It was a wonder he heard me on the Victory Train at all. The walls were so thick. But then again, he said he had already been awake before he heard me.

As soon as I finished making the drink, I walked over to Peeta, taking a stealthy sip from the cup. He had some explaining to do.

I gently stirred him awake, noticing the disheveled manner in which his curly blonde hair fell over his face.

Peeta yawned and stretched as he came to. As soon as his eyes opened, his lips formed an involuntary smile. "It feels so good to see your face first thing in the morning," he cooed in a sleepy voice. It was pretty clear he still wasn't aware of what he was saying.

I was somewhat taken aback by his unwitting comment, but regained my footing soon enough. "You're couple hours off," I informed him. "It's noon already." We slept so well together, that we had completely run past our usual waking hour.

"What?" Peeta exclaimed as a look of alarm seized his face. He turned to the clock hanging on our living room wall. "I'm late for the bakery!" he cried in a panicked voice. "If my mom finds out, she'll never let me hear the end of it!"

Before I had a chance to ask any questions, he ran off to get showered and dressed. I made some coffee, and in a little while, he came downstairs with a fresh set clothes on and his hair sopping-wet. He mumbled some apologies, before heading straight past me, towards the front door. I walked over to where he was, and found him perched on a stool, putting on his shoes in a haste. I handed him a cup of coffee, hoping to bide his time long enough to figure out what happened last night.

Peeta thanked me before taking the mug in his hands and gulping down its contents hurriedly.

"Why does your mom care if you're a little late?" I asked. "You'd be in school at this time anyway."

"Now that I'm not, my mom expects me to be at the bakery all the time," he explained with a note of exasperation in his voice. "But it's fine. My dad and I realized that since I'm working more hours at the bakery, we can make twice as much bread as we usually do, and hopefully that'll let us lower prices enough so that more people can buy it."

"That sounds like a good plan," I commented appreciating his initiative. "What did your mom think of it?"

"She's not a fan," he admitted. "That's why every time I come in late, or mess up, she holds it against me. She starts saying it's a pointless goal that we'll never be able to accomplish." He took another sip of coffee and then looked up at me, the edges of his mouth turning up mischievously. "So, I have to prove her wrong, right?"

I smirked. "I'll drink to that," I jibed, bringing the edge of my cup to his. He let out a small laugh, and did the same. A small clinking sound emitted as the brim of his mug touched mine. I took a sip of my beverage, and when I looked up our eyes met.

I hesitated for a moment, before beginning tentatively. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

His face stitched up in disappointment. "You mean you don't remember?"

I shook my head in response, and watched him as he fished out his coat from the closet, anxiously awaiting his reply.

"I can't believe you would forget a night like _that_!" he exclaimed as he put on his coat. "We sang the Valley song together, and even created a synchronized dance for the Talent Show!"

"What?!" My eyes grew twice their normal size and I felt my face redden from embarrassment.

"I'm just joking," he laughed, noticing the look of utter alarm on my face. "Nothing unusual happened. We just got tired watching TV and fell asleep together."

"That's it?"

He nodded his head affirmatively, as he wrapped a scarf around his neck. "I've gotta' run now," he explained apologetically. "But thanks again for the coffee." And with one more flash of his warm smile, he headed out into the cold, swinging the door shut behind him.


	87. Family Woes

**Katniss' POV**

It was already noon, so I knew it would be much too late to give out food packages in the Seam. That would have to wait until tomorrow. But the food rations were already dwindling as it was.

I was glad that Peeta and his father were doing their best to try to alleviate the scarcity of food in the district, but I knew their bakery could only provide enough baked goods to feed a small fraction of all the people living in the Seam. Still, I gained an added sense of respect for Peeta having learned that he was working to improve conditions for people in twelve.

The corners of my mouth turned up into a small smile, as I contemplated on how considerate and generous Peeta was. It was one quality I truly appreciated in him.

After my headache went away, I trekked the long way down to my mother's house and spent the rest of the day there. The day passed by in silence as usual, my mother taking care of her medical duties, as I cooked and cleaned and took care of our home. I knew my mother could never be trusted to do so on her own. After my father had passed, my mother stopped taking care of us like she used to. It was as if my father's death left her immobilized, only rising when she had some medical duties to take care of. She'd take care of the medical patients that arrived at our door—her eyes empty as her hands moved methodically, almost of their own volition—but as soon as they were gone, and she was left with just my sister and I, she'd shut down. It was like we weren't even there.

My mother never cooked for us, nor for herself. It was almost as if she wanted to die, and wanted to take us with her.

It wasn't long before I learned how to cook using whatever weeds I'd find in our garden to make soup. I shared the meals with my sister, who helped out as much as she could at her age. When we finished cooking, I'd dole out the food between my sister and I, not even bothering to offer some to my mother; I knew she wouldn't eat even if I did bring her a helping.

_Let her die_, I thought.

But my sister wouldn't let her suffer such a fate. She fed my mother, despite my insistence that we needed to save as much food as possible for ourselves rather than waste it on someone who clearly didn't want to eat.

My sister always had a golden heart. She took care of my mother, even when she didn't deserve it.

I glanced over to where my mother was by her medicine cabinet, neatly stacking her healing tonics and utensils in a slow, methodical manner. Everyone in the Seam thought she was crazy, but they respected her for the work she did. But they didn't know how she treated her children; her complete apathy towards us. It seemed she cared more about her craft, than about us. Over the years, I noticed how engrossed she would get in her healing duties, and I hated her for it.

We got into a fight one time, and I'll never forget it. After months of me begging and pleading my mother to wake up from her stupor, and my cries falling to deaf ears, she finally responded. What resulted was a heated argument, and I swear the whole house shook from our screams. When our cries finally died down, I went to look for Prim, who I found hiding under a table, curled up and shaking, with tears running down her cheeks. I promised myself from then on, I would never fight with my mother again. The years passed by in silence, and soon I realized there was no use in hating my mother, because she was not even worth my time or effort.

When it was time to pick up my sister from school, I headed out, pushing a hat over my head to brace the winter cold. As I walked, I noticed the augmented number of Peacekeepers in town, most of them new faces I didn't recognize. It made me feel uncomfortable, almost like it was an invasion. I saw there were several peacekeepers stationed outside the school, carefully monitoring the area. I met my sister at our usual spot, and noticed a peacekeeper had been watching us. I quickly ushered her away, but still felt his gaze trained on us as we left, making our way towards the Seam.

When we got home, my sister finished her homework quickly so that she could have time to help my mom with her healing duties. An injured miner had come to my mother that afternoon and my sister was eager to help. I prepared dinner and when the patient had been taken care of, my sister joined me at the table while my mother went back to taking care of her healing utensils. I knew she would eat on her own later. I didn't care. I didn't want to be bothered by her anyway.

Prim told me about her day at school and we chatted about that for a little while, before she asked me if she could walk home from school on her own again. As much as I wanted to give her my consent, I shook my head sadly. "I'm sorry, Prim," I explained. "You've seen how many new peacekeepers there are—it's not safe."

"Please!" she begged. "Cara, Vick, and Rory will all be there with me!"

Cara was Gale's younger cousin who happened to be in Prim's class. They knew each other long before Gale and I met, but as soon as we did, they began seeing each other a lot more, and eventually they grew closer.

"Cara's older brother will be there, too, so we don't have to worry about the peacekeepers!" Prim chimed in.

Cara's brother, Bryce, was a year younger than me, and seemed like a decent person, but I didn't know him well enough to trust him, especially not with my sister.

I told Prim I'd think about it, but deep inside I knew I wouldn't agree to it. My sister didn't realize that the peacekeepers were a danger to her especially, just because she was my sister. I shuddered as I thought back on my last meeting with President Snow and how he had made a direct threat on her life. He knew she was my one and only weakness.

As we cleaned the table, my sister asked me about the talent show and what my talent would be. She seemed to be a lot more excited about it than me, but quite frankly, I had expected that from her. Suddenly, a flashback came to me from the night before. I remembered telling Peeta about how much Prim loved watching the Talent Shows that would air on TV. I shook my head, silently admonishing myself.

_I can't believe I told him that._

I hardly ever talked to anyone about Prim. Of course I would talk about her with Gale, and sometimes with Madge, but I had known each of them for years, which was a lot longer than I had known Peeta. I was surprised and slightly embarrassed that I could open up to someone so quickly.

_It must've been the wine_, I reasoned.

Suddenly, all of the memories from the night before came rushing back. I remembered teasing Peeta about his lack of modesty when inviting me to watch him as he stripped his clothes off in the arena. I automatically felt my face grow red. I hope he didn't think I was fixated on that moment for all these months. I groaned internally as I thought of how foolish I must've sounded bringing that up after all this time.

As if that weren't enough, I suddenly remembered how I had told him about my nightmares, and practically begged him to stay with me that night. I shook my head disappointedly. I can't believe I admitted that to him after how long I fought to keep my ongoing nightmares a secret from him.

_Hopefully, he forgot about all of that_ _by now._

Suddenly, I heard an urgent knock on the door, and saw my sister open it, as I followed her into the living room.

"Bryce!" Prim exclaimed as a Seam boy with dark skin and jet-black hair rushed into our home. "What are you doing here?"

"Prim, I need you to call your mom," he began in a frazzled tone. "Fast!"

"What's wrong? Cara isn't sick, is she?" Prim prompted with a concerned look on her face.

"No, she's fine," he assured with a quick shake of his head. "Just please, get your mom—it's urgent!"

Prim ran off to get her as I approached our guest.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to mask the apprehension in my voice. "It's not Gale, is it?"

I had warned him not to hunt illegally when there were so many peacekeepers around. _Had he gotten caught?_

"No," Bryce said, sending a surge of relief through my body. "It's Thom! He got shot by a peacekeeper!"

My eyes widened in shock. For as long as I had lived in the district, I had never heard of a peacekeeper shooting _anyone_ in twelve.

Bryce looked just as worried as I was. He eyed the cameras in our living room apprehensively. "Listen," he said dropping his voice down a notch. "Is there anywhere we can talk in private?"

I nodded quickly, and brought him over to the bathroom. It was the only place the peacekeepers had allowed to remain devoid of any cameras.

Once we were inside, Bryce explained to me that one of the peacekeepers had caught Thom sneaking in goods from the forest. He ran away, but the peacekeeper tailed him until they had almost reached the Hob. Thom switched courses, so as not to disclose the location of the Hob, heading towards the town square, but in doing so he had gotten shot.

"They're getting closer to figuring out where the Hob is," he whispered. "If they find out, they're going to shut it down, and then what are we going to do? Everyone will be out of a job!"

Many people in the Seam depended on the Hob to bring home enough money to survive, Bryce being one of them. Both of his parents died in the mining accident that took my father's life, so he and his older sister always struggled to make ends meet. He wasn't old enough to work in the mines, and neither of them knew how to hunt, so trading at the Hob made up most of their family's livelihood.

"We'll find another way to trade in secret," I assured him, despite being devoid of any such ideas at the moment. "Until then, we'll just have to tell people to stay away from the woods as much as possible."

He nodded his head in agreement.

We joined Prim and my mother in the living room, and Bryce recounted the story to my mother, excluding the details about the woods and the Hob. He explained that Thom had ran towards the town square. Bryce and several other men from the Seam who had witnessed the incident found him in a deserted alleyway, lying in a pool of his own blood. They carried him to the back of the peacekeeper's bar where Darius had let them in, and found a place to hide him from the other peacekeepers.

"He's bleeding so much," Bryce cried out in panic. "I don't know if he'll survive."

My mother assured him that she'd meet him in town as soon as she collected her healing tools, and then he left.

My sister helped my mom prepare her medicine bag, and when it was fully stocked my mother got ready to head out, and my sister started to do the same.

Before she could get her coat, I walked up to my sister and put a hand on her wrist stopping her. "Prim you can't go out now," I said. "It's too late."

"But I want to watch mom," she pleaded, her eyes so wide with eagerness that I almost faltered for a second and gave in.

"You've been watching her all day," I reasoned, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You need some rest."

"But I've never seen her patch up a bullet wound!" she protested.

"And hopefully you'll never have to," I insisted, putting my arm around her and urging her away from the door. "Come on, it's time for you to go to bed."

I ushered Prim towards the inside of our house, when suddenly I heard my mom's voice call out to us.

"She can come with me if wants."

My jaw tightened at the sound of her voice. I turned to look at my mother, fully clad in her winter coat, clutching the medicine bag over her shoulder as if it were her most prized possession, and I couldn't help but glare at her.

My mother looked back at me as if she had suggested nothing more than a casual daytime stroll with my sister. As if there weren't strict rules in place about following the curfew that the new peacekeepers had set up for people in the Seam, barring them from entering town after hours. As if there weren't Peacekeepers roaming the town, one of which had just _shot someone_.

My mother's continuous disregard for us, especially Prim, was so blatant that it aggravated me to no end. I was furious in a way that I hadn't been in a _long_ time.

But before I could shoot back any biting words, I remembered that Prim was standing right next to me. So I held back anything I was going to say, and instead turned to face my sister.

"Why don't you get ready for bed, and I'll be there soon to tell you a story, " I suggested in the softest voice I could possibly manage, running a hand over her shoulder lightly.

My sister must've noticed the tense interaction I just had with my mother, so she nodded her head and just did what I asked compliantly.

I busied myself in the kitchen, deciding to disregard my mother, because she didn't deserve my attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother unlock the door and hesitate for a moment before turning to me.

"She's old enough to go with me now," she began.

"You don't get to tell her what to do," I shot back, despite my initial decision to ignore her.

"I'm her mother," she retorted.

"You haven't acted like it in a long time," I replied. "What makes you think you can now?"

"I took care of her when you were gone."

I scoffed, no longer able to control the volume of my voice. "You took care of her for two months, and you think that makes up for all the time you were gone?"

My mother seemed to be at a loss for words. A tense silence followed.

Prim must've heard us, because she came out of her room moments later, and urged me to come with her, before wishing my mother good luck and bidding her good night. I didn't even look back as my mother shut the door behind her.

I tucked my sister into bed and then lay down beside her on the mattress we once shared. My sister asked me to tell her a story about my makeup crew at the Capitol. She loved hearing stories about how they did my hair and dressed me up, as well as how strange and interesting Capitol people were.

My sister seemed to be thoroughly amused by my description of the outrageous styles and mannerisms of my prep team, giggling especially when I told her about Octavia's odd fondness for mice and how she once wore an outfit adorned with lights shaped like the little critters. Once her laughter died down, my sister looked at me with a softened expression in her eyes.

"Don't be mad at mom," she begged lightly. "She's trying. I think she's getting better now."

I nodded my head to appease her, but I wasn't convinced. I knew my mother was just as selfish as she always was.

"Do you remember that time when mom tried to teach us how to make pancakes?" Prim reminisced out loud. "She left us alone for one minute and by the time she got back, we spilled flour all over the floor! We thought we were going to be in _so_ much trouble!"

I laughed as I remembered the moment. "You looked like you were going to cry!" I teased.

"You were scared, too!" she countered back.

I was afraid my mother would be mad at me for making a mess, since I was the eldest, so I was supposed to be the responsible one. Frantically, we tried to sweep up the mess before she caught us.

"But when she came back, she didn't get mad!" my sister recollected. "She just laughed and showed us how to draw and build things with the flour."

I smiled as I reminisced about the fun time we had with our mother that day. Only Prim could make me look back and remember her good days.

"Maybe one day she'll be like that again," Prim murmured hopefully.

"Maybe," I offered, despite my reluctance to believe it would ever be true. Prim snuggled up on her mattress, pulling her pillow closer to her. I softly ran my fingers over her hair.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

Prim shook her head. "It's okay."

"Are you sure? Someone was shot tonight. I don't want you to be alone if you have any nightmares."

"I watched you in the games, remember?" she pointed out. "I learned how to deal with it."

It was hard for me to grapple with the fact that she didn't need me to stay with her at night anymore, at least not as much as I needed her. The first few months after I came back from the games, I had lived in my old home, and whenever my nightmares would take hold of me my sister would be there to comfort me, and often stay the night if I needed her to. But ever since I moved out, I didn't want her to know I still had nightmares. I wanted to be strong for her. So I didn't say a word, as I gently coaxed her into slumber.

"I'll be fine," she assured me one last time, before closing her eyelids and falling fast asleep.

I stayed with her until my mom came home. I didn't say a word to her other than ask about Thom. She informed me that he was in bad shape but she had stitched him up and he should be healing soon.

I put on my coat and boots, and got ready to head out. I heard my mother call out behind me.

"Be careful. There are peacekeepers still patrolling the streets."

I looked back, nodded curtly and then left. I heard my mother lock up the door behind me.

At least I knew Prim would be safe.

In spite of the added number of peacekeepers roaming the town, I didn't have too much trouble getting home. I got stopped once by a peacekeeper I didn't recognize, but once I told him my name he let me go. I guess being a Victor has its privileges.

_I'm too famous to kill._

_My sister on the other hand is not. _

I scowled the rest of the way to the Victor's Village. When I got there, I noticed Peeta wasn't home yet. I remembered he had gone to the bakery a couple hours late that day, and stressed that he had a lot of work to finish up.

I decided to wait for him before going to sleep. I knew that if I fell asleep before him the nightmares would come and he would definitely be able to hear me.

_I really wish he forgot everything I had confessed to him last night._

It'll be much harder to fib that I didn't mean what I said last night if he comes home and hears me screaming in my sleep, so I figured I might as well keep myself busy for the time being.

I found the plant book on my dresser, and remembered that it had fallen apart since the last time I'd used it. I brought the book over to my bed and started to reorganize it. The last time I had organized a plant book I was helping Prim put together hers. Now that she had her own, she never needed mine. It made me sad to think that I would never again have anyone to share my plant book with.

As I sifted through the pages, I reminisced of the times I spent with my mother making it.

Maybe my sister was right. Maybe she was getting better.

_But would I ever be able to forgive her?_

Anger burgeoned in my heart, as I thought about how my mother had abandoned us for all those years, letting us starve. Nothing she could ever do now could make up for that.

Suddenly, instead of anger, I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I knew my answer.

_No. _

_I would never be able to forgive her._


	88. Nightly Raid

**Peeta POV**

I rushed into the bakery a little after noon, hoping desperately that by some chance, my mom wouldn't notice what time I came in.

"Hey, why so late?" my brother Percy cocked an eyebrow from his usual place behind the front counter, his legs perched up on the tabletop. "Busy signing my papers?"

"I haven't gotten to that yet," I answered truthfully, coming over to meet him at the counter.

"People in twelve need a place to train," he insisted leveling his eyes on mine.

"People in twelve can't train without food in their bellies," I replied.

I didn't realize how bad it was in the Seam until I saw Katniss giving out the food packages the Capitol had left in our basement. I thought that with the extra provisions given to the winning district, things would be better this year. But apparently, I was wrong. People in the district were still struggling. So much that Katniss felt the need to distribute food to them herself.

I knew that I could do something to help out, too. Now that I was a victor, I had the ability to do that, more than ever before. I wasn't going to school anymore, and my mom expected me to spend every waking minute in the bakery anyway, so I devised a plan that would allow us to lower prices for bread. I proposed that if we spent all our ingredients making bread, rather than cakes or cookies, which most people in the district couldn't afford anyway, then maybe we'd be able to make enough bread to feed everyone.

My dad loved the idea, of course. This was something he had dreamed about doing for a long time now. My plan didn't go over too well with the rest of my family though. My mom, of course, hated the idea. My brother Percy couldn't care less. Most importantly, I had to get my brother Pat's approval, because the bakery was now under his control, since technically he would be inheriting it soon.

At first, Pat wasn't very supportive of the idea, but he was convinced when my father told him it would be good for the business. He agreed to give my idea a try, but only for a few weeks. My mom was not happy about his decision and she took every opportunity she had to undermine our effort and belittle my work ethic. It didn't help that she was already under the impression that I no longer cared about the family business now that I was a Victor and got incensed at every little transgression I made, such as being late for one.

I leaned over the counter. "Is mom in there?" I asked Percy in a hushed tone, nodding over towards the backroom.

"Yeah," he informed me. "And she's furious!" He let out a roar of laughter as if my misfortune amused him.

I shot a disapproving glance at him, before combing a nervous hand through my hair, desperately trying to think of way to explain this situation so that my mom won't get _too_ mad at me.

"I'm just kidding!" Percy exclaimed, probably noticing the petrified look forming on my face. "She left about an hour ago. She said she doesn't want to be a part of this train _wreck_. Do you really think I'd be sitting like this if she were here?" Percy said nodding to his feet that were propped up on the countertop that my mother loved to keep clean so much. "She'd be over here, swatting me with a broom."

I chuckled at the image, but I knew sometimes even that broom wouldn't stop him.

"Do you mind helping us out in the back today?" I asked. "It looks pretty slow out here and we could use another set of hands."

A sly smile spread on my brother's face. "Sign the papers and maybe I will," he wagered with a shrug.

My happy demeanor instantly deflated. "We'll do fine without you," I grumbled, even though I knew that was far from the truth. We needed as much help as we could get, but I wasn't about to give in to his manipulation.

"Don't take too long to think about it," he called out behind me as I walked past him towards the back of the bakery. "The more time you take, the less time people in twelve have to train."

He had a point. But training people for the Games was the _last_ thing I wanted to do. I pretended to ignore my brother as I walked through the threshold leading to the backroom.

"You're late!" The first thing I heard upon entering the backroom was my eldest brother Pat's voice admonishing me. "You make me take a chance on you with this plan of yours, and you don't even have the decency to show up on time?"

I automatically felt horribly guilty. I had already missed a day of work earlier that week to be with Katniss and today I was coming in late, so I wasn't leaving a very good impression, so far. If I continued on with this terrible track record, he would never give any of my ideas a chance again.

"I'm sorry, Pat," I apologized. "I promise I'll stay late today to make up for all the work I missed."

Pat shook his head despondently. "You can't come in whenever you want, and expect all this work to be done without you. We're already short of hands since Sophie's staying home now," he said referring to his wife who had recently stopped working due to her pregnancy. "If you don't take this project seriously, then maybe mom is right, it _will_ turn out to be a train wreck."

"Don't worry, Patrick," my father intervened calmly. "It won't be a train wreck. Peeta is serious about making this project succeed and he'll be on time from now on, isn't that right, Peeta?"

"Of course!" I affirmed as I hastily put on an apron, and got to work.

Towards the end of the day, we had finished most of the work we needed to get done, so I convinced my brother to go home early and be with his family. He seemed really stressed out, and of course he would be, spending all of his time at the bakery, and hardly ever getting to see his children.

My dad and I wrapped things up, and when evening came, I noticed how tired he was, his back pains making it harder for him to work in the kitchen for as long as he used to, so I persuaded him to go home as well, assuring him that I'd take care of closing the bakery myself. I knew this project was an ambitious one, but it was important to at least try, and I was grateful that they could help. I had faith in the plan, hoping that maybe it could produce a change here in twelve.

But I couldn't help the nagging feeling in the back of my mind, telling me it wasn't enough.

The evening went by quietly as I cleaned the bakery, until suddenly I heard a loud noise come from outside. I couldn't help but jump. I immediately thought of the canon that would go off after a tribute had died in the arena. I shuddered at the memory. But that's when I realized the blast didn't sound like a canon. No, it reminded me of a far more menacing sound I heard while on the Victory Tour. The loud boom I heard behind closed doors, as peacekeepers in District Eleven shot down an old man who had been brave enough to show them a hint of defiance. I closed my eyes and shivered as the memory replayed in my mind. I don't know what happened to that poor old man, but I was pretty sure he had died.

_What if someone in twelve died, too?_

My eyes shot open. I rushed over to the front of the bakery, which was pitch black now that Percy had left, and ran out the door to investigate. As soon as I stepped outside, I was greeted with a chilly breeze, wafting through the cold, night air. I didn't see anyone outside, which made sense since most merchants closed their shops hours ago and were probably home by now. I waited a few more minutes in the dark silence of the night, before I was convinced that there was nothing to see.

_I must've made up the whole thing in my mind. _

I let out a sigh and returned to the bakery, raking a hand over my face in exasperation.

_First nightmares—now this? _

After the games, I knew my nightmares would get worse, but I didn't expect to be imagining things when I was wide-awake.

_It must've been a long day_, I thought as I rubbed my eyes.

I turned on the lights to the front of the bakery. The sight of the familiar space gave me some semblance of normalcy and reassurance that at least I wasn't going completely crazy.

I noticed the countertop that my brother had dirtied with his shoes, and felt an involuntary smile form on my face. At least I knew some things never changed. I grabbed a wash rag and began cleaning the surface knowing my mom would throw a fit when she came in the next morning.

After several moments, the countertop was spotless. That's when I heard a loud banging at the door. I turned around and saw two figures standing outside, but it was too dark to make out their appearance. I opened the door, and was greeted by two burly looking peacekeepers whose faces I did not recognize. It reminded me of my first encounter with Darius and Cecille, but these peacekeepers looked like they would be a lot less friendly.

"Can I help you?" I asked politely.

"What are you doing out here past normal working hours?" one of them asked gruffly, while the other craned his neck, eyeing the inside of the bakery suspiciously.

"Just spending the night with my lovely wash rag," I said waving it around playfully. "Making sure the place is spotless for the morning." The peacekeepers did not seem to be very amused by my joke. They stared me down with a hardened look on each of their faces.

"Do you mind if we come in and take a look around?" they asked. Before I could say anything, the two officers brushed past me, barging into the shop.

"Not a problem," I answered, although it was pretty obvious an invitation was not required.

After taking a good look around the front of the bakery, they head towards the back, shooting a glance in my direction before pushing the door open.

"Go ahead," I offered, although, once again, it was pretty clear my permission was not necessary.

I trailed behind them, and couldn't help but be nervous. Was this another raid?

After I got back from the Games, an additional amount of peacekeepers had been sent into the district. They began investigating the merchant shops, making sure they were up to standard and following all the codes and regulations set by the Capitol. If they were caught doing something illegal, they were automatically shut down. Fortunately, my family's shop passed with flying colors.

But I hadn't expected them to come back again; especially now when my parents, the owners, weren't at the shop. Were they conducting unscheduled visits now, after hours?

"We had an investigation done several months ago. We did well," I informed them as they perused the backroom, opening and checking inside every closet and underneath every table. "But you're welcome to come by any time and look around if you need to."

Of course, I'd rather they _not_ intervene and poke around my family's shop whenever they wanted, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Even if they were doing surprise raids; my family's shop would do fine.

_We had nothing to hide._

Unfortunately, I wasn't sure I could say the same about the other merchant shops in the district.

"It's not an investigation," one of the peacekeepers said turning to me. "We're looking for a fugitive. A rugged, dark-skinned man with black hair. Have you seen him?"

I shook my head. _That description could literally match anyone from the Seam._

"He had an animal skin on his head," the other peacekeeper chimed in, his eyebrows furrowing over as a sudden moment of recollection seized him. "One of those furry little critters that runs around your district."

"Do you mean a squirrel?" It was an animal that was native to District Twelve, so of course most peacekeepers had never seen it before coming here.

"Is that what that dusty, coal-ridden animal is called?" the peacekeeper asked in his distinctive District Two accent. "He had a hat like that on his head, with the tail hanging off the end."

There were plenty of people in the district who wore animal skins but only one was bold enough to wear a hat like that.

_Thom. _

I knew him from the bakery. He'd come in occasionally to make a trade or buy some bread. He'd always take the time out to crack a joke or make some light conversation. He seemed like an overall nice guy.

_What kind of trouble did he get himself into?_

"Do you know a man by that description?" the burly peacekeeper demanded.

"I do, but I haven't seen him tonight."

The peacekeeper stared me down, as if he didn't believe me.

I could understand why; it probably looked suspicious that my shop was open this late, when all the others had already closed.

A few silent moments passed by as the peacekeeper sized me up, before speaking again. "You're that Victor kid, aren't you?"

_Of course—they probably recognize me from TV. _

The peacekeeper narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm sure you understand a transgression as serious as harboring a fugitive has very _severe_ penalties."

_Is he threatening me?_

"It wouldn't be so good for your district if their very first Victor in _years_ had a run in with a law, now would it?" He posited menacingly.

"No, it wouldn't." _And now they're threatening my district._

"You'll be sure to tell us if you see anything, won't you?"

"Of course," I agreed. _As if I would actually give up anyone from my district._

"You'll be the first to know," I assured as I cordially led them outside. "Have a good night!" I called out, with a smile and a wave.

As soon as they left, I let out a sigh of relief. I had no idea why they were looking for Thom but he was from the Seam, so I immediately thought of Katniss. I quickly locked up the bakery and rushed home to check on her and make sure she was safe.


	89. Pillow Talk

**Peeta's POV**

On my way to the Victor's Village, I saw more peacekeepers patrolling the streets, the new ones easily distinguishable from the old ones by the steel masks covering their faces. They wielded guns at their sides, but that didn't surprise me.

Peacekeepers in Twelve always carried guns, but they never used them. Sometimes they would use them to intimidate people, but their guns would never go off. If they had to enforce a law or break up a brawl at the bar, they relied on their batons, but it rarely ever got that far.

The conversation I had with the new peacekeepers crept into my head, but I tried not to let it bother me.

_Peacekeepers only make empty threats. Everyone knows that._

After all, my brother got himself into trouble with a peacekeeper once and all that got him was a lifelong friendship that came with special perks and privileges.

But I was worried about Katniss. Her family lived in the Seam, and she had gone to see them that day. The peacekeepers said they were looking for Thom. What if they raided houses in the Seam? Was Katniss alright? Was her family safe?

When I came to the Victor's Village, I was disappointed to find that all of the windows to our house were pitch-black, showing no sign of life coming from inside.

As I rushed into our house, I tried to remind myself that there was no reason to panic. The window to her room was very small and on the opposite side of the house, so of course, I wouldn't be able to see a light from her room even if it was on.

When I came to the main bedroom, I was relieved to find that a small light shone from underneath Katniss' door. I walked over and rapped my knuckles against the wooden shell. "Katniss?"

When I saw her open the door I breathed an internal sigh of relief, quickly scanning her to make sure that no harm had come to her. She looked fine, dressed in her PJs with her hair down, just as she usually looked at this hour.

"I saw there were a bunch of peacekeepers out on the streets tonight. Are you alright?"

She nodded her head.

"They came into the bakery looking for Thom—I have no idea what they'd want him for!"

Her grey eyes flitted about nervously. "You'd better come inside."

I followed her into the room, and watched as she sat down on her bed cloaking her arms around a pillow with a somber look in her eyes.

"What happened?"

"He was caught smuggling some goods…" she trailed off, but I knew what she meant.

This was the same room we read that book President Snow gave us, listing all the punishments that came with breaking the law. I didn't want her to worry.

"That can't be so bad," I reasoned. People were smuggling things from the woods all the time and they never got caught. Even if they did, nothing ever happened except maybe half their goods were confiscated for "private use" by the peacekeepers.

Katniss looked down before continuing somberly. "They shot him."

"What?" I exclaimed not believing my ears. "Is he alright?"

"He's doing better now. My mother went to see him…she said he should be healing soon."

"How's your family holding up?"

"There were no more Peacekeepers in the Seam when I left," she answered musingly. "Prim should be safe with my mother."

"What about you?"

"I'm fine."

Suddenly, I remembered all the times she would repeat that phrase to me when I would ask her about her nightmares. Whenever I heard noises coming from her room in the middle of the night, I would rush to her door, and bang on it until she would let me in. I knew she usually kept it locked to keep me out, but I wanted to comfort her. I didn't want her to have to face her nightmares alone. But when she opened the door, she would open it just a crack, and groggily reply those very same words to me, before shutting me out once again.

After a while, the noises stopped coming from her room, and I thought her nightmares had stopped, too.

But after last night, I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Listen, about last night… there are some things you said that we need to talk about," as soon as I said those words, she averted her gaze downward, feigning interest in the pillow she held in her lap. It was clear that by now she had remembered enough of last night's events to know what I was referring to, but seemed reluctant to admit it.

I sat down beside her and lifted her chin up so that I could look into her eyes.

"Katniss, if you're having nightmares, you can tell me. I want to be there for you."

She didn't seem convinced, so I continued to coax her. "I need you just as much as you need me."

She bit her lip and gazed at me intently as she carefully considered my words. Her gaze fell as she hesitated for a moment, before finally replying in a small voice.

"I don't want to hurt you again."

I gaped at her words. I was surprised she would even think of me. And what did she mean? Was she referring to the scratches she had given me the last time I had stayed by her side during her bout of nightmares? Or was she referring to the last night we spent together on the train when she broke my heart in two for the second time in a row?

"I'll heal," I assured her, finally finding the right words to say, even though I wasn't so sure I believed them myself. "Besides I'm kind of looking forward to you rubbing lotion all over my body again," I added with a wink.

Her eyes widened in shock and she hit me with the pillow. "We promised we'd just be friends. If we're going to share a bed, that can't change."

"Okay, okay. I promise I won't try anything," I said, before remembering the last time I was lying in bed with her, _she_ tried to jump my bones. "Not unless you do, of course."

She must've known what I was alluding to because suddenly her face turned ten different shades of red. She slammed the pillow down on me again, causing me to laugh out loud.

"Peeta! I'm serious!" she exclaimed when she was done assailing me with the pillow.

"I know! I was just joking," I assured her. "Look, this will be my side of the bed, and that will be yours!" I said motioning over to where she was sitting. "Does that sound good?"

She nodded her head in agreement.

Then her eyes flitted across the length of my body, giving me a once over. "You should get dressed."

"I'll do that in my room," I said, getting up and making my way there. Suddenly something else she said last night popped into my head, and a smug grin formed on my face as I turned to face her. "…Unless you prefer a striptease!" I offered.

I didn't think her face could get anymore red, but it did. She threw her pillow at me, but I dodged it just as I exited the room. I laughed as I heard the pillow slam against the door behind me.

I knew I shouldn't be poking fun at her, but I was just having way too much fun.


End file.
